Distant Storms
by Karibou
Summary: COMPLETE! Sam and Jack face the fury of nature and the end of the world as they know it. Late entry in the Apocalypse Kree! ficathon. Rated for adult content and mild language.
1. Brewing Discontent

**Title:** Distant Storms

**Rating:** M

**Pairing:** Sam/Jack

**Warnings:** Romance-novel sex. Hot but not x-rated. Mild language.

**Summary:** This was originally written for the "Apocalypse Kree!" LiveJournal fic-a-thon. (and is now about 6 months late. Whoops.) The prompt pretty much sums it up. (_"Sam/Jack. Earthquake, volcano, flood, hurricane, tsunami, or other natural disaster - and working together to survive it. Must include scruffy !unshaven! Jack._") I should admit, however, I'm cheating a bit on the apocalypse theme. It's there, but I'm just not capable of writing a blatantly unhappy "ending of doom." Sorry if this disappoints anyone!

A/N: Some of you have seen this previewed on my LiveJournal account. It will be posted and completed here in its entirety.

* * *

Chapter One 

Thunder rolled ominously across the wide expanse of grassy marshland which stretched across the alien horizon. From her perch on the impressively tall cliff overlooking a huge, roiling ocean, Sam could see massive thunderheads all but obliterating the distant sky in every direction. Her observations, combined with the preliminary data from her meteorological sensors all pointed to one conclusion.

She was standing directly in the path of an oncoming hurricane.

Heaving a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair. The mission to this lonely, windswept planet had been put together hastily after Tok'ra intelligence began reporting unusual weather anomalies on several planets in this system. Apparently, entire worlds had been rendered uninhabitable as a result of something… _unnatural_. It had been suggested that one of the countless minor Goa'uld tyrants was attempting to seize power through use of weather-affecting technology, though – since no populated planets had yet been struck – it was hypothesized that the plan was still in a testing phase. Having witnessed the power of the Touchstone on Madrona, Sam could well believe that such a strategy was feasible. Weather technology and terraforming had gone hand-in-hand to create life on that particular planet. She supposed it would be entirely possible to link them in the reverse order, especially if one had no moral compunction about inflicting death and destruction.

Once again gazing at the tempest on the horizon, Sam felt a twinge of fear skitter across the edges of her brain. It was a four-hour hike back to the stargate. Getting back before the storm hit would be possible, but just barely. Picking up her radio, Sam composed her thoughts before speaking. It felt odd to be offworld with anyone other than SG-1, but it couldn't be helped.

SG-1 was officially off-duty this week.

SG-1 had _other_ things to do.

A wave of the uncomfortable bitterness swept over her at the thought of her teammates' absence. She shouldn't be angry at the way this trip had turned out, but she was. She'd been angry when she'd stepped through the gate, and angry when she'd insisted upon trekking across the alien landscape by herself. Unfortunately, her attempts to avoid the storm brewing inside herself had done nothing but place her directly in the path of another, less metaphorical tempest.

SG-7's scientific expertise had been needed on this mission, but Sam's knowledge of weather-affecting technology was unrivaled. She, unlike her teammates, had not elected to spend her off-duty time attending to personal matters.

She wasn't really sure she _had_ personal matters to attend to anymore.

At any rate, she was the only member of SG-1 to accompany the scientific team. SG-5, a marine combat unit, had also been sent to provide security – though it currently appeared that the danger facing them was far beyond even the Marines' ability to counter.

Taking a deep breath, she supposed it was time to brief the others on her discoveries. "Major Harper?" Her voice was amazingly composed, given the information she now possessed.

"Go ahead, Major Carter." The radio crackled across the vast distance separating her from the rest of her colleagues.

Pushing aside thoughts of how isolated she was, Sam focused on the situation at hand. "The storm is less than fifty miles off the coast, and it's a monster." She sighed, turning from the edge of the cliff. "I'm heading back now."

There was an edge of annoyance in Harper's voice when he replied. "I suppose now wouldn't be the best time to reiterate how stupid it was for you to go on a four-hour hike across alien wilderness by yourself?"

Sam squelched a bubble of her own irritation. "Definitely not the best time," she snapped. Damn it, she got enough crap from her actual CO for being overly-enthusiastic in the name of science. She hardly needed to take it from someone of her own rank. "You should start rounding up SG-7 and get them ready to head back through the gate. I'm going to arrive with Goliath on my heels, so you'll probably want to have them out of harm's way before I get there."

She could hear the impatience in Harper's reply. "Yes, Major, I'm on it."

Sam sighed. In the rush to get the team assembled, no one had thought to clarify which major would be superior on this mission. She supposed she could demand Harper's date of commission and settle the issue once and for all, but it hardly seemed worth generating friction over. In any event, she wasn't anywhere near the rest of the team, so Harper was definitely in charge of leading the retreat.

As another distant peal of thunder swept over the grassy terrain, Sam picked up her pack and began walking swiftly in the direction of the stargate.

Harper might be leading the retreat, but she was certainly in charge of bringing up its rear.

* * *

Tapping his fingers impatiently on the cool surface of a computer bank in the SGC's control room, Jack O'Neill glanced irritably at his watch. 

As was always the case in times of crisis, the room fairly crackled with tension. Harper of SG-5 had reported nearly five hours ago that the storm was bearing down on their location, and that he'd be sending SG-7 back through the gate momentarily. When questioned about why SG-5 would be remaining behind, the man had coolly informed Hammond that they needed to wait for Major Carter to return from a lengthy surveillance hike.

A lengthy, _solo_ surveillance hike.

Looking down at his watch, Jack felt his blood pressure spike for the zillionth time in the last hour. Damn that woman. She should know better than to leave her team so far behind when danger was clearly looming on the horizon. What the hell had she been thinking?

And why the hell was she even _on_ this mission? Last he knew, his entire damn team had been on vacation – himself included, he might add, at least until an urgent message from the SGC had yanked him back from Minnesota to await his second-in-command's arrival.

Suddenly, his fuming thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the gate activating. Without waiting for confirmation of the wormhole's source, Jack dashed down the steps from the control room and through the doorway of the gate room. As the marines readied weapons – standard procedure for an unscheduled activation – Jack stared at the familiar _whoosh_ of the event horizon with laser-sharp intensity.

After a few long, tortuous seconds, the shimmering surface inside the gate rippled, spitting out four extremely sodden, stumbling marines. Faces still squinting against wind and water which no longer fell around them, the hardened soldiers looked, to a man, exhausted and weary.

Jack's heart thundered in his chest as he waited for another figure to step through the event horizon. However, before the surface blinked out of existence, he caught sight of Harper's face and knew no other SG personnel would be emerging from the gate.

Anger rose in his throat with a wave of hot bile. Without contemplating his actions, he jerked forward and grabbed the marine major by his vest. "You _left her there_?"

Harper seemed to expect the outburst and did nothing to defend himself. Still, his eyes flashed with fury when he replied. "We waited an hour and a half in that storm, Colonel. At the end, we were actually holding onto the gate to stay upright. We had no hope of radio contact because of the weather, and we were standing next to a giant superconductor – which, by the way, is fully twice the height of anything else in the immediate vicinity – in the middle of an electrical storm. When the MALP was thrown a good twenty feet as a result of a giant gust of wind, I made the call. Standing there waiting for her wasn't going to bring her in any sooner, but was pretty damn likely to get us killed."

Jack was not appeased. "Why the hell did you let her go off by herself in the first place?"

Harper glared back. "Why did I _let_ her go?" He snorted. "I'm afraid I had little say in the matter." Looking at the older man, he didn't mince words as he continued. "Hell, you outrank her and she barely listens to you. There was no way she was taking orders from me."

Releasing his clenched fists from the major's vest, Jack jerked away from the man and ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of sheer frustration. What the hell was going on? Carter might be a little headstrong at times, but he was sure she'd be on her very best behavior around another SG team. Most of her willingness to selectively listen to his orders stemmed from familiarity – she knew she could get away with damn near anything around him, and often took advantage of that fact when she felt strongly about something. However, it was _very_ hard to imagine her acting that recklessly around anyone else. He could understand if she'd wandered away in a cloud of scientific distraction, but if Harper really had tried to stop her, he had no idea why she'd blatantly disobey him.

It wasn't like Sam to be so irrational.

"Major?" Hammond's brisk voice broke into the heated conversation.

Snapping to attention, Harper looked at the General and issued his stark report. "Sir, in spite of not knowing Major Carter's whereabouts, we could no longer maintain our position." His voice was steady, but his eyes were downcast. He was, after all, a marine. Leaving a teammate behind was all but sacrilegious.

Hammond nodded, clearly not pleased with the report. Still, when he spoke, there was no recrimination in his voice. "If she's able, she'll make it back."

Jack's voice cracked like a whip. "I'm going after her."

The general turned his steely attention to the other man, clearly prepared for a fight. "If Major Harper feels the situation on P6X-164 is unmanageable, I'm inclined to believe him. I'm not about to send another one of my officers into that storm."

Jack didn't budge an inch. "With all due respect, sir, that's _my_ second-in-command out there. If she's in trouble, someone ought to be helping." His eyes blazed with fury. "And since no one else is volunteering, I'll be happy to go by myself."

Sensing the titanic force of will behind his officer's words, Hammond felt his resolve weaken. After all, the man was trained in black-ops tactics and was fully capable of assessing the gravity of a given situation. "I'll allow this on one condition," he said firmly. Seeing a glimmer of hope in the other man's eyes, Hammond finished his thought in a no-nonsense manner. "If conditions on that planet are beyond what humans are capable of withstanding, you are to turn around and march right back here." His eyes sharpened. "I know what Major Carter means to SG-1 – hell, to the SGC in general – but I won't let you kill yourself on a futile mission to rescue her." Seeing the pain on Jack's face, he softened his tone somewhat. "For all we know, she's holed up in a cave somewhere. You can't assume the worst."

Jack stared grimly ahead. "Sir, I'd like to gear up and be out of here as soon as possible."

Hammond nodded. "Agreed."

As the colonel swiftly turned and marched out of the room, Harper stood on the embarkation platform, dripping and slack-jawed. "General," he said in disbelief, "there's not a chance in hell that he's going to find her."

Hammond turned to the young marine with a wry gleam in his eye. "If anyone is going to find her, it's going to be O'Neill." A faint smile danced across his features. "And if past experience is any indication, he won't need a chance in hell to be successful."


	2. Bones of Contention

A/N: Nice to see everyone is enjoying this one so far! I'm sure you'll all be happy to know that this chapter is where the ship starts. (C'mon, you knew there was going to be ship involved!) Hope you all had a great start to 2008! My resolution is to write more and avoid lengthy delays in updating, LOL!

* * *

Chapter 2

Buffeted by gale-force winds, Jack nearly fell over as he stepped out of the wormhole. He'd anticipated a terrible storm, but nothing could have actually prepared him for the sheer, uncontrolled violence which now raged around him. His first reaction was one of dread. If Carter had not found shelter, he doubted she could have lasted two hours alone in these conditions. According to Harper, she'd carried a rain slicker and some basic survival gear, but nothing specifically designed for hurricane conditions.

Jack, in contrast, was more than prepared for the weather. His high-tech, waterproof, wind-resistant coveralls were specifically designed for use in torrential rain and driving winds. Lightweight, protective hiking boots equipped with cleats kept his feet dry and helped him stay upright on the slippery ground beneath him. And, as a final precaution, his pack was fully equipped with food, Sterno, and a frightening array of medical equipment.

Now all he needed was Carter.

Looking around the dark, storm-wracked landscape, Jack took a deep breath and started plodding in the direction she'd last been heard from. He knew he'd promised Hammond that he wouldn't proceed if the rescue became a suicide mission, but now that he was here, he had to be honest with himself. He was either going to find Sam and bring her back to the SGC, or he'd die trying.

There was no way he'd go back through that gate alone.

* * *

Shivering against the chilled air, Sam glanced around the unlikely shelter she'd literally stumbled over. Feeling a twinge of uneasiness at the nature of her sanctuary, she supposed she shouldn't be picky about the roof over her head. 

Even if that roof was also covering an ancient tomb.

It had been several hours since she'd tripped over the stone slab which covered the entrance to this place. At the time, she'd been totally flabbergasted by her discovery. While at least one member of SG-7 had thought it likely that this planet had been home to an ancient civilization – decent climate, breathable atmosphere, and the presence of a stargate increased the odds dramatically – Sam hadn't really considered the possibility until she'd found the tomb.

Initially, she'd just been grateful to find shelter. The stone slab was close enough to the ground that she would never have found it had she not literally stubbed her toe on it. Sliding the heavy slab aside enough to slip inside had been another feat of heroic proportions, especially with the rain pouring down on her in sheets and the wind trying to steal the breath from her lungs. She knew she wasn't far from the gate, but the storm seemed to be interfering with radio communications, preventing any useful contact with the gate team. So, lest she risk getting lost, she'd accepted her good fortune in finding the tomb and made her way into its eerie depths.

However, spending two hours alone in a dark, chilly room full of ossuaries and crypts was enough to rattle even Carter's usually unshakable nerves. She was trying to conserve the batteries in her flashlight, as well as her meager supply of Sterno, just in case she was stuck here for some time, which meant she was sitting in the dark, shivering to stay warm. While stripping her wet clothes had helped keep her from hypothermia, cowering beneath an almost-dry emergency blanket in her underwear was not exactly the height of comfort.

She wasn't without hope of rescue, though. Surely, the gate team had to be wondering where she was by now. Sam sighed wearily. She'd tried to do what she could to aid in her recovery by yanking half of her bright-yellow rain slicker under the massive stone slab covering her shelter, leaving the rest of it to flap wildly in the wind. Not the most high-tech method of announcing her position, but with the radios acting oddly, it was the best she could do.

As thunder roared overhead, Sam suppressed another shiver. Between the damp chill in the air and her frazzled nerves, her body shook violently at regular intervals – not a pleasant sensation when one was seated on a marble slab. She was about to give in and dig out the portable stove from her pack, when suddenly, the brutal might of Mother Nature seemed to erupt in her midst.

Sam's first thought was that the wind had grown so terrible, it had actually lifted the immense stone slab away from the tomb's entrance. That possibility was scary enough to send her stomach plummeting to her toes in utter dread. There was no way she'd stand a chance at survival if her only shelter had been compromised. However, when two boot-clad feet stumbled down the stone steps into the underground burial chamber, Sam realized her prayers had been answered. Someone from the SGC had finally come to take her home.

She sagged with relief as her faceless rescuer wrestled the enormous slab back over the entrance to the closed space. Fumbling for her flashlight, she tried to decide which member of the gate team had managed to locate her. The figure was too lean to be Sergeant Halverson, and too tall to be Major Harper. In fact, if she didn't know better…

As the figure on the steps finally finished sealing the tomb, he turned around and pulled the hood and goggles from his face.

Sam's jaw dropped open. "Colonel?" Suddenly, she wondered if she _was_ suffering from hypothermia. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Shaking off the water which had collected on his hair and face, Jack's dark eyes intensely surveyed her condition. Seeing his second-in-command huddled beneath a blanket – looking cold but otherwise intact – went miles toward restoring his peace of mind. Exhaling shakily, he found himself feeling a little weak with relief. Determined not to let his feelings show, he focused on maintaining his usual demeanor. "Nice to see you too, Major," he quipped dryly.

Realizing how her question had sounded, Sam had the good grace to flush slightly. "I'm sorry," she said immediately, "Of course I'm thrilled you're here. I'm just surprised that…" she trailed off, sweeping her gaze over his sodden rain gear. Suddenly, it occurred to her that he wasn't dressed in a standard mission uniform. Eyes widening, she was struck with a realization. "They sent you out here specifically to find me."

Unzipping the high-tech coveralls, Jack was pleasantly surprised to discover the clothing beneath had remained almost completely dry. Flicking a wry look in her direction, he shed his pack and boots while responding to her assessment. "Actually, Carter, I _volunteered_." Opening the pack, he began to rummage inside. Perhaps, if he stayed busy enough, he could ignore how perilously close he'd come to losing her today. "I was fishing at my cabin when Hammond phoned and said you'd gone missing. Thanks to a little Asgard beaming technology, I was able to get back to the SGC just in time for the rest of your team to return." His eyes darkened grimly as he continued. "Of course, when Harper and SG-7 came through the gate, they'd already decided that looking for you would be a suicide mission."

Sam swallowed uncomfortably, certain that Jack had not agreed with her other colleagues – and doubly certain that he'd been vocal in making his opinion known. "But you changed their minds," she guessed quietly.

Standing up, Jack pulled out a set of blessedly dry BDUs from his pack and strolled over to the place where Sam sat shivering under her blanket. "I changed _Hammond_'_s_ mind." He clenched his jaw reflexively. "Harper didn't think I'd find you."

Seeing his anger toward the other man made Sam feel a rush of gratitude. She met his eyes timidly. "They would have left me here if you hadn't shown up."

Jack held out the clothing to her. "I wasn't going to let that happen, Carter."

As she reached out to take his offering, she noticed that his hands were shaking.

Instantly, her eyes flew to the fathomless, cocoa-brown eyes she'd come to know so well over the years. In their shaded depths, she could clearly make out the mountain of anxiety he must have felt when faced with her perilous and uncertain situation. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. Suddenly, she felt childish and small. "I never should have gone out on my own," she admitted.

Her tortured whisper struck a chord in his gut. She looked so damned small and helpless shivering under that blanket, he found himself unable to stay mad at her. Dropping the BDUs on the slab beside her, Jack gave into his instincts and wrapped his arms around her, tugging her up against the solid warmth of his chest. "Damn straight you shouldn't have gone out on your own," he growled. Squeezing her once, just to reassure himself of her presence, he tucked her damp head under his chin. "If you ever try something that idiotic while I'm in charge of a mission, you know I'd be forced to shoot you, right?"

The affectionate tone his words were delivered in took away most of their sting. Sam found herself smiling into the comforting heat of his shoulder. "I know," she replied dutifully.

As another shiver wracked her body, Jack found himself frowning in concern. "You're cold," he muttered, fully directing his attention to the soggy blanket which she cowered beneath. He was about to suggest she change into the dry BDUs, when another shiver caused her covers to shift, revealing a tempting length of one pale, smooth leg. Totally unnerved by the sudden, unexpected view of her bare skin, he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. "And you're… naked."

Sam felt the cold draft on her leg and felt another flush stain her cheeks. The fact that she was still nestled snugly against his chest did nothing to ease the sudden tension in the room. Tugging her meager covers back into place with one arm, she quickly corrected his assumption. "Not _totally_ naked," she mumbled. Gesturing to the corner of the tomb where her soggy clothes lay draped over a marble crypt, she clarified hastily. "But if I hadn't gotten that wet stuff off, I'd have been in big trouble."

Abruptly, it occurred to Jack that, while hugging a rescued teammate was probably an acceptable reaction for an air force officer, holding his practically-bare second-in-command in a rather intimate fashion was probably… not. Releasing her, he hastily moved several feet away. "Yes, well…" He fumbled for something coherent to say. When another slight movement of the blanket revealed yet more of her shapely legs, Jack found his ability to speak flee completely.

Seeing the look of paralyzed discomfort on her CO's face, Sam felt a bubble of frustration swell in her belly. "Oh, for cryin' out loud," she muttered, totally unconscious of the fact that she'd just used his trademark expression. "Turn around and I'll get dressed." Clenching her teeth, she tried to pretend like his uneasiness didn't bother her. After all, she reasoned, it wasn't as though she expected him to leer at her with unbridled lust. That would be unprofessional.

Though, maybe a little… _bridled_ lust would be a welcomed change.

Exhaling sharply, Sam shoved the stray thought from her mind. She would _not _be upset by his disinterest in her. After all, it had been that sort of irrational, emotional reaction which had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Yanking the blanket snugly around her, she reached for the dry BDUs with a little more force than necessary.

Sensing her sudden hostility, Jack blinked in bewilderment. What the hell had he done _now_? Pausing, he reviewed his actions over the last few minutes. Surely, she wasn't offended because he'd been gaping at her bare legs…? After another few seconds of reflection, he was forced to accept that it _must _have been that. Clearing his throat, he tried for some damage control. "Look, Carter, I assure you, you're a respected member of my team, and I wouldn't dream of staring at your legs."

Somehow, that had sounded better in his head.

Stifling a wince, he realized that by _denying _his actions, he'd probably just drawn attention to them – which was probably not going to make her any happier with him.

Sam's response was, indeed, curt – though for an entirely different reason than he imagined. _Yeah, yeah_, she thought grimly, _Rub it in._ His reference to her as a 'respected member of his team' did not improve her mood in the slightest, as it made her feel about as tempting and provocative to him as _Teal'c_. "Well, you're _going_ to be staring at my legs in about ten seconds if you don't turn around," she stated flatly, holding up her change of clothes.

Eyes widening at the thought, Jack jerked into action. "Oh, right." In one hurried move, he clamped his eyes shut and turned to face the opposite wall of the chamber. The whispered sound of her blanket fluttering to the ground set another round of inappropriate thoughts dancing through his mind. Vainly, he tried to suppress images of those long, smooth legs wrapping themselves–

"All right, I'm decent." Sam's blunt announcement sliced through his reverie. Swallowing guiltily, he shook off the inappropriate thoughts and turned around timidly. She was, indeed, now clad in the dry BDUs. And, while she looked physically warmer, her mood, clearly, was not.

Sighing resignedly, Jack wandered back to his pack and started taking stock of his supplies.

He was going to need all the help he could get tonight.


	3. More Fun than a Wet Blanket

A/N: Ugh. Back to reality! Christmas vacation was nice – but too darn short! If only I didn't have to, you know, pay the mortgage… own a car… eat… Ah well, hope you all had a nice holiday! 

Enjoy the hard-headed obstinacy of our fair heroes in this chapter. Nothing like a little angry tension to ratchet up the heat… (grin!)

* * *

Chapter 3

"Chicken or Beef?" Lifting two MREs aloft in an undisputed offering of peace, Jack held his breath and hoped his second-in-command's mood had improved after 30 minutes of 'alone time.'

Glancing his way, Sam had a hard time maintaining her frosty demeanor. Staying mad at Jack was hard enough under normal circumstances. Being stranded alone in an ancient alien tomb during a ferocious hurricane with him – especially when he'd volunteered to brave said hurricane to rescue her from said tomb – made holding a grudge pretty much impossible. Finally sighing in resignation, she pointed to the package on the left. "Chicken," she mumbled.

He looked at the indicated MRE and blinked. "That's beef."

She shrugged. "Whatever. They all taste the same, anyway."

After pausing a moment to reflect on her observation, Jack nodded. "Yeah. Good point." Wordlessly, he began preparing the tasteless rations, glad she seemed to be speaking to him again.

"So, how bad was the storm?" Sam asked, following an age-old tradition in neutral conversation topics: the weather.

Jack winced. "Bad." He flicked a glance in her direction. "You were damn lucky to find this place."

Flushing with embarrassment again, she nodded. It really _had_ been idiotic to trek four hours into unknown territory by herself. "I know," she mumbled. Then, with a humorless laugh, she shook her head. "I was pretty lucky _you_ were able to find this place."

Reflexively, his jaw clenched in a telltale sign of tension. "The slicker was a good idea," he said carefully.

Something in the tone of his voice made Sam pause. "But…?" She could tell he was holding something back.

Pointedly keeping his attention fixed on the MREs, his words came out a bit gruff. "Took a few years off of my life," he said quietly. Finally looking up at her, his eyes blazed with intensity. "Last I'd heard, you were _wearing_ that slicker."

Sam's breath caught in her throat. _Oh, lord, he thought I was dead. _Raising a hand to her mouth, she felt another wave of guilt crash over her. "I never thought–" She broke off, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, remorse was carved into her expression. "I guess there were _a lot_ of things I never thought about on this mission," she admitted dismally.

Taking a deep breath, he seemed to shake off the dark mood. "Yeah, well, we're all allowed to be idiots sometimes." Then, with a teasing half-smile, he looked pointedly in her direction. "Even _super-geniuses_."

Sam rolled her eyes.

A few moments of companionable silence passed as Jack finished warming the MREs. When he eventually handed her one of the meals, the atmosphere in the tomb had become significantly more hospitable than it had been minutes earlier.

"Thanks," she said. Then, taking a bite of the tasteless concoction, she smiled with false enthusiasm. "Mmmm. That's the best beef I've ever eaten in a tomb."

Jack squinted at her meal. "That's chicken," he corrected.

Sam sighed. "Whatever."

Their eyes met across the darkened space between them, and with a smile, they shared their opinion of the food in unison.

"They all taste the same anyway."

* * *

Blinking owlishly in the eerie blue-green light of the glow-stick which illuminated the chamber, Sam tried to put her muddled thoughts in order. "So, what's the plan for getting out of here?" she asked with a yawn.

Jack examined her drooping posture and smiled faintly. "Considering it's somewhere around midnight back at the SGC, I'd say some sleep would be in order before we try to head back to the gate." He eyed the tomb's entrance wearily. "The storm was almost impassable when I got here, and by the sounds of things, it hasn't improved any."

Sam nodded. Suppressing another yawn, she considered what she knew about the fierce storm blowing above them. "The good news is that we're high enough above sea level that we shouldn't be in danger from the storm surge. Those cliffs I saw earlier were hundreds of feet tall." Looking around, she pointed to the stone blocks that encased the tomb. "And you can see that there's absolutely no moisture on any of these, even near the bottom. By all estimates, this planet is normally quite arid."

Not even trying to decipher her geology lesson, Jack lifted his eyebrows. "Is that good?"

She smiled. "For us, it's _definitely_ good. The soil composition and moisture content mean that it will readily allow water to pass through it."

Jack looked at her blankly. "And that's good?"

Nodding patiently, she explained further. "Any water that doesn't run off into the ocean should pass through the soil to whatever groundwater reservoir is below us. Given what we know about the climate here, chances are good that the water table is quite low." Seeing his continued lack of comprehension, she summed it up neatly. "The tomb won't flood."

Jack's eyes lit with understanding. "Oh!" He paused. "That _is_ good."

Sam smiled, shaking her head. He was too cute for words, sometimes.

Closing her eyes, she almost groaned out loud. Now where had _that_ thought come from? Frankly, she was getting a little tired letting of this silly infatuation with him get the best of her. There was simply no excuse for allowing thoughts like that pop into her head on a regular basis.

Even if his lopsided grin _did_ maker her heart flutter.

_Oh, for crying out loud._

Completely unaware of the silent sparring match going on in his companion's head, Jack had managed to pull his bedroll from his belongings. Spreading it out on a mostly-even section of dirt floor, he looked over at Sam expectantly. "Hey, how wet is your bedroll?" he asked, realizing he hadn't thought of her sleeping arrangements before now.

Torn from her internal argument, it took a moment for his question to sink in. When it _did_ sink in, her heart plunged to her toes, and she uttered a very un-Carter-like word.

Pausing with a look of startled shock, Jack looked a bit speechless by her expletive. "Is there a problem?"

Feeling her face grow warm for what felt like the millionth time that day, she gritted her teeth and exhaled sharply. Then, in a rather strained tone, she confessed, "I _dropped_ my bedroll a few miles up the road." She closed her eyes in mortification. "It was soaking wet and weighed a ton. I figured I'd either end up back at the gate, or…" she trailed off, not wanting to bring up any reference to the _other_ possible outcome she'd faced that day, especially after the rain-slicker misunderstanding. "In either event," she rushed on, "I wasn't going to need a bedroll." Opening her eyes, she faced him timidly. "I can't believe I didn't think about that sooner."

For a moment, he just stared at her. Then, glancing briefly at the lone bedroll, the soggy emergency blanket, and her still-damp hair, he seemed to reach a decision. "I'll take the blanket."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sam metaphorically dug her heels in. "No." Her tone brooked no room for arguments.

Holding up his hand, Jack ignored her objection completely. "Carter, you're wet, you're freezing, and you're in far greater need of rest than I am. There's nothing to argue about here."

Sam, however, would hear none of it. Eyes flashing mulishly, she flatly refused his directive. "_No_," she repeated. "You were yanked from your vacation so that you could walk through gale-force winds and driving rain to get my sorry ass out of a hole that I'd dug completely on my own. There is _no way_ I'm now going to take your sleeping bag and make you bunk down on a dirt floor with a wet emergency blanket!"

Glaring back at her, Jack pulled out his ace-in-the-hole. "Major, I _order_ you to get into that bedroll," he barked, pointing at the ground where it lay.

If asked about it later, Sam would deny any knowledge of what possessed her at that moment. But something small and formerly silent in her heart suddenly stood up and roared in defiance.

"Well, _Colonel_," she hissed, "when we get back to the SGC, you can write me up for insubordination, because the only way I'm getting into that bedroll is if you climb in with me!"

Blazing with anger, Jack fired off his retort without thinking. "Then I guess we're sharing the damn thing, aren't we?"

"Fine!" she barked.

"Fine!" Jack glared at her furiously for a moment before the full implications of their conversation hit him.

Carter had just blatantly disobeyed a direct order.

_His_ direct order.

And, somehow, as a result, they were going to be sleeping together tonight.

The repercussions of the last few moments began to register in Sam's head as well. Fury now spent, she felt the blood quickly drain from her previously-overheated face as she realized what she'd done. Blue eyes wide with panic, she looked at him nervously and opened her mouth to speak.

Seeing her start to backpedal, Jack cut her off abruptly. Perhaps he was hoping she'd regret her insubordination, or perhaps it was something more visceral, but in either case, his reply was swift and firm. "No going back now, Carter." He glanced at the sleeping bag and then back over her pale features. "You made your proverbial bed, and now you're going to sleep in it."

Seeing the somewhat combative glint in his eye made her find the little bit of fight she still had left in her. Straightening her spine, she looked at him levelly. "Correction, sir," she stated flatly, "now _we're_ going to sleep in it."


	4. Heat of Fusion

A/N: Hmmm… Anyone else think this might be a good time to heat things up?

* * *

Chapter 4

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Carter. I don't bite." Holding one edge of the half un-zipped sleeping bag open, Jack's exasperated tone left little doubt as to his mood.

Staring at the microscopic space she was expected to sleep in, Sam felt the little courage she'd manage to muster flee like rats from a sinking ship. "Uh, sir, I'm not sure this is going to work."

Jack regarded her dispassionately. "Get in the damn sleeping bag." Regardless of the wisdom of his choice, Jack was _not_ letting her off the hook. He had no idea why he was feeling so stubborn about his decision, but then, he'd never really been a big fan of examining his motives too closely.

Of course, staring at his slightly-rumpled, wide-eyed second-in-command as she studied him in breathless anxiety did clue him in to at least _one_ of his motivations.

She was fairly adorable at the moment.

Acknowledging that particular thought _should_ have knocked at least a little sense into him – after all, curling up beside her for several hours was bound to be something like a combination of cloud nine and Chinese water torture. The _last_ thing he should be doing was commanding her to defy her better judgment and cross a boundary which, for the past seven years, had served them reasonably well. And yet, faced with the alternative of letting her pull away, Jack found he was unable to give into common sense.

He finally had a logical excuse to hold her for a few hours. And he wasn't going to let that opportunity slip away without a damn good fight.

Sam, on the other hand, was feeling more panicked by the moment. "Seriously, sir, I'm not sure we're both going to fit in there." Examining the space once again, Sam swallowed visibly. Climbing into that bedroll was going to mean plastering herself against him shamelessly. And she had no idea what she might betray to him under such intimate circumstances.

Lips quirking into a half-smile, Jack gazed at her steadily. "We've done this before, Carter. We'll fit."

Sam's brow wrinkled in confusion. They'd done this before?

Seeing her befuddled disbelief, Jack rolled his eyes. "Antarctica? Sub-zero temperatures? Near-death experience?" He paused. "Ring any bells?"

A look of understanding flashed in her eyes. "Oh, right." Then, contemplating his words further, she continued to object. "But that situation was totally different. You were hypothermic and bleeding internally. We _had_ to stay close, or we would have frozen to death." Not to mention the fact that, in Antarctica, Jack had been so feeble and injured, any thoughts of extra-curricular activities would have been ridiculous. Hell, back then she'd still believed that her attraction to him was a simple, passing infatuation.

Now, of course, she knew better.

Jack glared at her stubbornly. "I hate to break it to you, but sub-zero or not, it's still cold enough down here to substantially lower your body temperature – especially," he added, looking pointedly at her damp hair, "if you're wet." His brown eyes remained determined. "Hypothermia could kill you here just as easily as it could have in Antarctica."

He was right, of course. Strategically, it made sense for her to sleep in the bedroll. And, she acknowledged silently, had she not been such a stubborn idiot earlier, she could have gracefully accepted his offer to take the sleeping bag and let him bed down under the emergency blanket, thus avoiding this situation. However, sheer guilt over the part she'd already played in this disastrous situation still made it impossible for her to regret that choice.

And so, here she stood, staring at the few inches of space between her solid, warm CO and the zipper of the bedroll, wondering how the hell she was going to make it through the next few hours without losing her mind.

Finally, the soldier in her kicked into gear. Pushing aside her emotional objections, she took a deep breath, got down on the floor, and wiggled into the very snug space.

For a moment, all Jack could do was hold his breath. He'd been the one to bring up Antarctica, but even he had to acknowledge that this situation was nothing like those frantic, painful hours six years ago. Instead of clinging to a warm body for survival as he had on the glacier, he now found himself pressed up against Carter – _his _Carter – for far less easily defined reasons. The space inside the sleeping bag was pitifully small, leaving no choice but to tuck her intimately against him. As she wiggled a bit, trying to find a comfortable position, Jack was suddenly struck with a realization that, had it hit a few minutes earlier, might have changed his mind about their sleeping arrangements.

One small sleeping bag plus himself and one soft, curvy, _wiggling_ Carter equaled not only emotional torture, but distinct _physical_ agony as well. He had no idea how he was going to hide his rapidly-growing affliction all night, but with his Beretta lying on the ground beside them, it would be pretty obvious that this time, she was _not_ feeling his sidearm. Silently cursing his lack of control over that particular reflex, Jack shifted his position as best as he could, and gritted his teeth, waiting for her to stop moving.

Finally, Sam seemed to abandon her reservations and gave into her instincts. In moments, she found herself settled against him spoon-style, so that her head was tucked beneath his chin, and her back was nestled against his chest. Almost unconsciously, his free arm wrapped around her middle, holding her snugly in the spot that seemed to have been made for her.

Breath catching in her throat, Sam felt an odd jumble of emotions. In some ways, lying curled beside him was both natural and familiar. She'd faced death beside this man, knew him inside and out. In some ways, he was closer to her than her own family was. She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt this grounded and content.

And yet, on the other hand, the novelty of the moment was also crystal-clear. How many years had she dreamed about being held against him like this? How many times had she cursed the damned frat regs for denying her this chance? Now that the moment was actually upon her, she found herself overwhelmed by how perfectly _right_ it felt.

Unexpectedly, Sam felt the hot rush of tears in her throat. Glad she was turned away from him, She squeezed her eyes tightly, and willed the emotions away. _This_ was why she'd been terrified to climb into this bedroll. Now that she was here, how the hell could she ever forget the experience, and go back to life as it had to be?

Almost as if he sensed her silent pain, Jack's arm tightened around her waist for the briefest of moments. "Night, Carter." His voice was familiar and comforting, full of the same quiet strength she'd come to depend on for so many years.

Drawing from that strength, Sam sighed softly and let go of her apprehensions. Morning would be soon enough to face those demons. For now, she would enjoy her little corner of heaven while the experience was still available. Closing her eyes, she whispered her reply automatically.

"Night, Jack."

In her weary condition, she didn't even realize she'd called him by his first name.

* * *

From a dark, wonderfully warm corner of the universe, Sam felt the gentle tug of something tender and familiar on her heartstrings. Turning reflexively toward this unnamed source of comfort, she sighed happily and wrapped herself around its mellow strength. Though she had no conscious notion of where, exactly, she was, her heart had no doubt she was _home_.

The pleasant sensation of a warm, lithe body wrapping itself around him was more than enough to bring Jack to a state of muzzy semi-consciousness. Mind, body, and soul all agreed instantly that it had been far too long since he'd experienced anything quite this exquisite. Reflexively, he pulled the delightfully soft curves closer in a display of tender possessiveness, reveling in the stark contrast between her body and his. Feeling her curl into his embrace, he smiled in satisfied approval when his actions were rewarded with a series of soft, delicate kisses along the line of his jaw.

Still floating in the misty limbo between dream and reality, Sam's heart immediately recognized the arms around her and responded enthusiastically. Crushed against the body she'd coveted for so long, she reveled in the gruff sensation of his hair-roughened skin on her lips. Inquisitively, her mouth followed a delicious path from his chin to his earlobe, stopping only to nibble at the particularly sensitive spot where his neck and jaw came together.

As her wicked mouth continued to tease and torment, Jack inhaled sharply and was filled with a cherished and familiar scent. Smiling in recognition, he reacted automatically. Shifting with remarkable speed for someone who was still mostly asleep, he pulled her forcefully upward until that delightfully soft mouth was directly in line with his. Without a second thought, he closed the gap between them with a gruff noise of surrender.

Whether it was the sound of his soft growl, or the shock of their lips meeting, something about their primal, instinctive kiss yanked both Sam and Jack instantly into full consciousness.

Painfully aroused and breathing raggedly, Jack opened his eyes to see Sam staring up at him in a similarly breathless and uncomfortable fashion. His lips, still millimeters from hers, tingled with remembered sensation, and his arms continued to clutch her tightly against his body. Eyes locked in heated understanding, there could be no mistake as to what was occurring between them.

For an instant, they stayed that way, silently communicating their mutual need for each other; allowing the reality of the situation to set in. Neither of them, it seemed, wanted to deprive the other of a chance to call a halt to this unplanned encounter.

Then, as if by mutual agreement, Sam's hips shifted slightly and brought their lower bodies together in an explosion of electricity.

Jack watched in fascination as her eyes slammed shut with a tiny gasp of pleasure. Suddenly desperate to know how else she would respond to his touch, he tugged her t-shirt from the waist of her pants and slid his hand along the delicate skin of her ribcage.

Head swimming with sensations, Sam whimpered softly as she felt his warm touch on her bare flesh. As his fingers continued to caress their way upward, she reflexively opened her eyes, seeking his gaze to anchor herself upon.

The overwhelmed tempest he saw churning in her eyes was enough to momentarily still Jack's hand. He responded instantly. "Sam," he murmured, looking steadily into her shaken gaze, "we can stop right here if you want." His tender expression left no doubt as to his sincerity.

Suddenly blinking back tears, Sam reached up to caress his face. As she did so, her eyes seemed drawn to the contrast of her long, pale fingers brushing against his tanned, chiseled jaw. After a moment, she returned her attention to his patient gaze. "Is this really happening?" she asked quietly.

Hearing the combination of amazement and apprehension in her voice, he turned his head slightly and placed a soft kiss in the palm of her hand. Then, meeting her wide, crystal-blue eyes, he responded gently, "Only if you want it to."

At that, something between a laugh and a sob tore free from her throat. Closing her eyes, she braced herself against a tidal wave of emotion that coursed through her. "If I _want_ it?" Opening her eyes again, she looked tenderly into his face. "I'm not sure I can draw breath without this," she whispered.

Feeling as though something had broken loose in his chest, Jack leaned forward and placed a heart-stoppingly sweet kiss on her lips. "Then, don't try to," he murmured quietly. "Whatever you want tonight, Sam…" His eyes blazed with intensity. "It's yours."

Sam heard the qualifier in his statement, whether he'd intended to put it there or not. The key word was 'tonight.' Neither of them knew what the morning would bring, and implying otherwise would be dishonest. She was well aware that these moments, pressed against his solid strength, might be the only occasion she'd have to experience life in his arms. Looking into his fierce, familiar gaze, she tried to determine if one night of this would be enough for her.

In an instant, she had her answer.

If one night with Jack O'Neill was all she'd be allowed in her lifetime, then she would take it and cherish every moment. It was, after all, one night more than she'd been granted so far.

Drawing a deep breath, she smiled softly into his patient gaze and replied decisively. "Then, tonight, Jack," she whispered, eyes ablaze with longing, "I want _you_."


	5. Out of the Frying Pan

A/N: (evil author grin.) Hmmm. Should it _really_ be that easy?

* * *

Chapter 5

The determined look in Sam's clear, blue eyes sent a powerful wave of adrenaline rushing through Jack's bloodstream. He had absolutely no idea what he'd done in the last several hours to change her mood so dramatically – after all, moments before settling into their sleeping bag, she'd been shooting visual daggers at him for staring at her legs. Now, however, it seemed she'd undergone a 180-degree turnaround and was permitting him to do a whole lot more than just stare.

Far be it for him to question her motives – he'd been waiting for this moment for longer than he cared to admit.

Clinging to his solid strength, Sam watched Jack's thoughts flicker through his familiar brown eyes. Now that her brief moment of uncertainty was behind her, she felt delightfully liberated. The heated expression on his rugged features filled her with giddy confidence. For the first time since she'd met him, she had no doubt about his wishes where she was concerned.

He wanted her. And the feeling was thoroughly mutual.

Eyes locked in heated anticipation, the space between them evaporated as if they were both under the effect of a powerful magnetic force. Fully expecting a blaze of passion when their lips met, Sam was somewhat surprised when the first caress of Jack's mouth was soft, tender, and undeniably sensual. With thorough attention to detail, he seemed to be memorizing the soft texture of her warm, moist lips. Despite her less-than-gentle attempts to deepen the embrace, it quickly became apparent that he was refusing to be rushed.

Under his deliberate, leisurely attentions, Sam soon began to feel more than a bit breathless. His unhurried curiosity was intriguing to her – she was so used to seeing him take swift, decisive action, that this unexpected facet of his personality thoroughly fascinated her.

Pausing for a moment in his tender pursuit of her mouth, he turned his velvet-brown eyes toward her fevered gaze. Then, clearly measuring her reaction, Jack allowed the hand which rested gently on her ribcage to resume its sensual path upward.

Feeling her pulse leap in her throat, Sam gasped as Jack's warm, gentle fingers slipped beneath the lower edge of her sports bra. With same leisurely, deliberate focus he'd exhibited in his earlier kisses, Jack allowed his caresses to thoroughly explore the uncharted territory of her overheated skin. By the time his hand had slid far enough beneath her undergarment to gently cup one rounded breast, Sam thought she might spontaneously combust.

Which is why, when an unpleasantly loud beeping erupted from the tomb behind them, it took both officers a moment to shake off the sensual fog which had enveloped them.

Jack recovered first, but was at a loss to explain the noise. Pulling his hand away from her with a marked look of regret, he propped himself up on one elbow and studied the cold darkness behind them.

A few seconds behind her CO in recovering her senses, Sam blinked in confusion for a moment, keenly frustrated by the loss of his warm touch. When the sound finally did register in her higher brain, she groaned in frustration and buried her head in the crook of his neck.

Seeing his companion's reaction to the noise, Jack regarded her curiously. "Should I be worried about a bomb going off?"

Smiling into his chest, she shook her head slightly. "Nothing that dramatic," she mumbled. Then, looking up, she sighed. "I have a remote-start device attached to my laptop for missions like this. It allows the machine to hibernate, essentially drawing no battery power when it's not needed. However, if one of my field units gathers important or unusual data, the unit's telemetry device will send a 'power on' message to my machine, starting it up so that it can receive the data. This allows me to monitor the equipment for long periods of time without having to recharge my laptop's battery."

Somewhere in Jack's brain, it occurred to him that he _often_ had inappropriate thoughts about her when she was explaining highly-technical bits of information. However, given the nature of their current circumstances, he was finding it harder than usual to maintain an expression of interest in her words. "And the beeping…?"

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It's the sound my computer makes when it receives data. Looking into the eerie gloom behind them, Sam sighed heavily. "Since the storm was interfering with radio communications earlier, it could just be a malfunction caused by random background noise."

Jack sensed where this was going. "Or?"

Sam grimaced. "Or, it could be a very important piece of information about the storm raging overhead." The steady, unrelenting howl of the winds outside had become ever-present in the tomb since Jack's arrival. While neither of them could sense any shift in its sound, it was theoretically possible that something important had changed and that one of the instruments she'd left on the planet's surface had detected it.

Issuing a sigh of his own, Jack turned his attention back to her face. "Which means you should probably go see which it is." His dark eyes swept over her frustrated expression affectionately. "Don't worry, Carter. I'll keep the sleeping bag warm for you."

Gritting her teeth at the thought of leaving the warm security of his embrace to enter the icy blackness of the tomb behind her, Sam regarded him darkly. "Sure. Rub it in," she muttered, bracing herself for a split second before yanking the zipper on the bedroll down and pulling herself into a standing position.

Quickly pulling the covers back up around himself, Jack smiled at her retreating form. "It's nice to know you're keeping track of things up there," he commented soothingly. "It probably increases our odds of getting safely back to the gate."

Rummaging through her pack, Sam quickly located her laptop and flipped open the cover. "Much as I'd like to take credit for that, I'm afraid it was pretty much the purpose of this mission," she mumbled absently as she pulled up the appropriate data interface program.

Jack observed her intense concentration in the blue-white light given off by the laptop's LCD screen. "Well, with a little bit of luck, that storm will eventually let up enough to get us out of here." He smiled. "Charming as this place is, I'm thinking I'd rather spend the rest of my 'vacation' back up at the cabin."

All at once, Sam's entire body grew very, very still.

How the hell could she have forgotten?

Feeling a leaden lump of hurt and disappointment settle in her stomach, Sam wondered if she'd ever been a bigger idiot in her entire life. After everything that had conspired to bring her to this point, she couldn't believe she'd forgotten the root cause of what had made her run off like a child in the first place.

Across the chamber, Jack immediately knew something was wrong. Reviewing his last statement in confusion, he tried for some damage control. "Not that I'm missing the fishing at the moment," he added hastily, wondering if she still felt bad about pulling him from his time off. Then, thinking she'd perhaps misunderstood his comment as a plea for solitude, he tried again. "In case I wasn't clear the first fifty-two times I've asked, you're _always_ welcome to join me there, Sam."

Snorting indelicately, she looked at him in angry disbelief. "Are you serious?"

He blinked. Clearly, he was missing something. "Yes, I'm serious," he said, sounding utterly confused by her abrupt mood swing. "Carter, what's going on?" His voice left no doubt as to his utter consternation.

Sam was about to open her mouth and give him a solid piece of her mind, when the flashing notice on her computer screen finally registered in her brain. Forgetting her anger for a moment, she felt her stomach sink as she read the message. "It's not background noise," she said grimly, "and it's not information on the storm, either."

Further perplexed by her sudden change in topic, it took Jack a moment to digest her declaration. "Okay," he said slowly, "so what is it?"

Sinking onto one of the marble crypts in a gesture of utter defeat, Sam stared at the computer screen dismally. "It's a message from the SGC," she said. Then, finally looking up to meet his unusually bewildered gaze, she broke the bad news. "They've barred us from returning through the gate until further notice."

* * *

A/N: Hey, what do you know? It's _not_ going to be that easy… _(Mwah-ah-ah…)_


	6. Distant Thunder

A/N: Okay, okay! I get it – you want some answers. (sigh.) Well… here ya go.

(Relax and refer to initial "_I'm just not capable of writing a blatantly unhappy 'ending of doom.'"_ footnote if you're overly worried. If you haven't already figured out that I'm a terrible, you haven't been paying attention.) By the way, if I haven't mentioned it earlier, this fic takes place sometime in season 7, pre-_Chimera_. (I'm currently in Pete-avoidance mode.)

On a more personal note: You all have permission to be insanely jealous of me... I'M GOING TO SEE RDA AT THE VANCOUVER GATECON!! (Can't you see my giant, giddy grin?) I'm an official VIP ticket-holder!! WOO-HOO!

Eh-em. With that out of my system, I'm prepared to continue with my story now. (giggle!)

* * *

Chapter 6: 

Closing his eyes, Jack lifted a hand to his forehead and tried processing the events of the last thirty seconds. After a moment, he gave up completely. Pulling himself into a seated position, he looked at Sam with an expression of sheer exasperation. "We're not allowed to go home?"

For her part, Sam looked as though she was about to burst into tears. "Apparently, there's an unknown energy source being transmitted to Earth from somewhere on this planet." Running a weary hand through her hair, she sounded utterly miserable as she continued. "SGC sensors have picked up this energy every time a wormhole connection was established between the two places."

Jack took in her expression with some alarm. "And this is bad?"

Momentarily falling back into military protocol, she nodded and continued to brief him on the situation. "No one is sure exactly _how_, but it seems as though the few, brief bursts of this energy through the gate have been enough to disrupt weather patterns on Earth. The SGC is barring any gate activity to or from this planet until it can determine what long-term effects the energy appears to have."

Feeling his jaw drop slightly in disbelief, Jack decided he must have misunderstood something in her explanation. "Some weird energy on this planet was transmitted through the gate and is affecting weather _on Earth_?"

Sam nodded.

Digesting this fact, Jack met her distressed look steadily. "What does this mean?"

Glancing at her laptop for a moment, she shrugged. "I don't really have enough information to make more than a guess right now." She sounded thoroughly grim.

Jack had been working with her long enough to know what that tone in her voice meant. "What's your gut telling you?" He could tell she had a strong hunch – and her hunches were right often enough for him to trust them.

Staring at her computer, she seemed to debate answering him for a moment. Then, apparently resigned to being honest, she met his look squarely. "We came here because we had intelligence that one of the System Lords was testing destructive climate-change technology on uninhabited planets like this one. With what we know now…" she paused, swallowing, "I'd be willing to bet it was a trap."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "You think we were given false intelligence to lure us to this planet, just so the destructive energy would have a chance to reach Earth?"

Sam nodded.

Exhaling slowly, he studied her face carefully. "What kind of damage is it doing there?"

Sam glanced at her laptop again. "There isn't much data yet, but computer projections aren't good." She sighed and looked back into his dark, unreadable gaze. "If they can't figure out a way to counteract the effects of the energy bursts, severe storms could theoretically ravage every city on Earth within two- to three-hundred miles of a temperate or tropical oceanic coastline."

Jack wasn't a scientist, but even he knew that the areas Sam just described probably contained a majority of the planet's population. "Damn," he swore softly, reeling with shock. His first instinct, of course, was to gate back home to help in whatever way he could. Looking at his second-in-command, he could tell she was experiencing a similar urge. "And all we can do is sit here and wait." The frustration in his voice was obvious.

Sam closed her eyes and laughed darkly. "It's worse than that, I'm afraid." Opening her eyes again, she could see the confused skepticism on her CO's face. Clearly, he wasn't sure how things could be worse than sitting helplessly on the sidelines while one's home was destroyed a few million light years away. She hated to enlighten him, but figured he deserved to know. "If this unknown energy is wreaking such havoc on Earth after only a few seconds of exposure, imagine what it's going to do here, where it's been present for hours, or even days."

His eyes widened with understanding. "It's going to tear this planet to pieces."

Sam nodded. "And probably us with it."

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "We can't even risk gating to another world, because we could potentially infect other places with this weird energy." He shook his head. "Gotta admire that evil Goa'uld deviousness."

Smiling feebly, Sam blinked back tears.

Seeing the overwhelmed look on her face, Jack's first instinct was to reach out and hold her. Yet, he could tell by her still-defensive posture that something else had happened here in this chamber tonight – something that wasn't related to the storm. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Jack took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet. "So…" He eyed her directly and gave it his best shot.

"Since we're about to die and all, how 'bout we skip the part where I clumsily fumble around for hours, trying to figure out what the hell I did to piss you off so badly, and just get to the part where you explain it to me, so I can beg your forgiveness?"

* * *

Obviously not expecting the sudden shift in conversation, Sam looked at him in disbelief. "The world is literally coming to an end, and you want to talk about _that_?" 

Jack's eyes never wavered. "It's not like we have something more pressing to take care of," he said dryly. "I'm assuming if you could actually _do_ something about our impending doom, you'd be frantically typing things on your keyboard over there instead of just moping around dejectedly."

Sam's mouth opened soundlessly for a moment before closing with a snap.

He nodded knowingly. "So, if we're really going to die here in this tomb…" he trailed off, glancing around the dim space. "Hmm. Dying in a tomb. That's almost like getting sick in a hospital," he commented idly, seeming to enjoy the irony a bit. Then, realizing he'd been in the middle of making a point, he cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, if we're going to die shortly, I think I'd like to make peace with you before checking out."

Sam wanted to argue with him. She wanted to stand up, yell, maybe even throw things. The last twenty-four hours had been miserable, and part of her didn't want to contemplate forgiving him for the part he'd played in that misery. Still, as she looked angrily into his steady, brown eyes, she couldn't help feeling a whole cascade of other, more tender emotions as well. Considering the situation they now found themselves facing, there was a good deal of wisdom in his words.

Sighing, Sam stiffened her spine and met his gaze head-on. "You invited me to your cabin," she said quietly, clearly expecting him to understand the significance of her statement.

Blinking at her for a moment, Jack was completely at a loss. He'd obviously missed something critical along the way. "And I shouldn't have done that?" he asked, trying to figure out what she was getting at.

Sam exhaled sharply, exasperated by his attitude. "Come on," she muttered, "even _you're_ not that thick."

Jack smiled disarmingly. "Oh, but I am," he replied, hoping she'd remember a few of the million times he'd acted with utter stupidity, if only it would reinforce his point.

Sam shook her head, irritated that he was making her spell it out. "I heard you on the phone," she said between clenched teeth. Meeting his eyes reluctantly, she tried to keep her tone even. "Before you left for your trip." When he continued to look utterly baffled, her expression darkened noticeably.

Raising his hands defensively, Jack racked his brain for any telephone conversation which might have triggered her present anger. Unfortunately, even after intense thought, he found himself drawing a complete blank. "I'm sorry," he said meekly, "but I really have no idea what you're talking about."

Glaring at him, Sam felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. She hated having to admit she'd overheard his obviously private conversation, especially under the present circumstances. It made her feel like even more of an idiot. Gritting her teeth for a moment, she took a deep breath. "I heard you talking to _Anna_," she finally ground out.

The recollection of that moment was painful to dwell upon, even now. She'd felt so utterly stupid and naïve.

It had all started with a very reckless impulse. When General Hammond had directed SG-1 to take some much-needed downtime, she'd originally gone to her lab, ready to dig into a few unfinished projects. However, it hadn't been more than a few hours before she'd found her attention wandering from her work. Much to her shock, she'd found herself thinking about her CO's plans for his time off, which undoubtedly included fishing at his cabin in Minnesota. Somehow, she'd imagined that, years after the invitation had been issued, she'd still be welcomed on his fishing expedition.

So, on the craziest whim she'd ever experienced in her entire life, she'd gone to his office, hoping to catch him before he left.

She'd caught him all right. Just not in the way she'd hoped.

As soon as she'd approached his office, she'd heard his low, rugged voice clearly engaged in a phone conversation. She'd been about to turn around and go back to her office, happy to come back at a time he wasn't busy, when his words drifted unsolicited to her ears.

"_Anna, you're killing me,"_ he'd said, a smile evident in his voice even from her current distance. "_You know I'm waiting anxiously for that dinner you're making."_ A pause, as his partner replied, then, "_The cabin wouldn't be the same without you, sweetheart._"

Sweetheart?

Suddenly, Sam had felt her heart skip a beat. Her first instinct had been to run away, but her feet had been unwilling to cooperate. So, she'd stood there, listening to his conversation, stunned and heartsick at the words which washed over her.

"_I miss you too,"_ he'd said soothingly. Then, in a voice which sparkled with affection, he'd continued his declaration. "_I hate that you're alone so much. Why don't you think about moving closer to me, where I can keep an eye on you?"_

At those words, tears had sprung unbidden to Sam's eyes. How could she have missed something this huge? It was obvious by his words that Jack was involved in a fairly serious relationship with someone living near his cabin. She suddenly felt like a total moron. _Of course_ he was involved with someone. Had she really believed he'd just wait around until she was willing to break the frat regs for him? And why did she feel so betrayed? It wasn't as though that cabin had any actual emotional significance for her and Jack. The feelings she had about his fishing retreat were obviously just something she'd elevated into the perfect emotional fantasy.

And it was very clear he didn't feel the same way.

Finally, Sam had been able to mobilize her muscles into action. Rushing back to her lab, she'd thrown herself into her projects with mind-numbing intensity, hoping to forget the hurt and humiliation she'd felt standing outside his office. And when the opportunity to go off-world with SG-7 had arisen, she'd jumped at the chance to get away. _Anything_ would have been better than sitting in her lab, imagining Jack with his Anna, making himself comfortable in his cozy north-woods cabin.

Yanking her mind back to the present, Sam felt another wave of mortification wash over her. It was bad enough she'd ignored the possibility that he might have moved on in the first place. But to have fallen so easily into his arms after knowing the truth? She winced at the thought. She really should have more self-respect than that.

Jack watched the horrified flush spread over her features as she uttered the words which were so obviously painful to her. For a moment, her tone was distracting enough that he didn't even process her words. He was simply bowled over by the knowledge that he had the ability to hurt her so tremendously.

It was only after her statement did finally register that his eyes widened and his jaw slackened. Suddenly, he rummaged through his brain, trying to recall the exact words which Carter had obviously overheard. After the briefest moment, during which time Sam's eyes dropped to the floor, Jack found the memory he'd been looking for.

Much to Sam's astonishment, his response wasn't guilty sidestepping.

Instead, the sound of Jack's heartfelt laughter echoed off the tomb's bare stone walls.

* * *

Jerking her blue eyes to his in angry disbelief, Sam found herself disturbed by his complete insensitivity. What the hell could be funny about this situation? 

Confronted with her angry glare, Jack waved his hands defensively as he pulled himself out of the sleeping bag. Scrambling to his feet, he crossed the chamber quickly and knelt before her on the cold, dirt floor. "Oh, Sam," he said softly, still fighting back laughter, "I'm not sure exactly what you heard, but I assure you, it wasn't what you thought."

Sam blinked at him uncertainly. "I heard you make dinner plans at your cabin with her," she said with quiet dignity. "And then I heard you invite her to move closer to you." She swallowed. "You said you missed her."

All traces of humor fled his features as he witnessed the obvious hurt in her gorgeous blue eyes. "I can only imagine what I would have done if I'd been confronted with a similar conversation," he said seriously, taking a moment to contemplate what his reaction would be to finding Sam involved in a significant relationship. His heart constricted at the thought. Taking her hands in his, he waited for her to meet his eyes before continuing. "I just wish you'd gotten mad enough to talk to me about it," he said sincerely, trying to reassure her with his eyes. "If you had, I'd have told you that 'Anna' is the woman who takes care of things around my cabin when I'm not around. She's lived in a little town nearby all her life, and she had a son who was killed in the service, which is why she's so fond of me, I think." Squeezing Sam's hands gently, he looked into her hesitant expression steadily. "The reason I asked her to move closer is that she's eighty-five if she's a day," he explained softly. "I worry about her up there all by herself at that age."

Looking into his warm, dark eyes, Sam began to understand he was serious. There was no 'other woman' waiting at his cabin, just a lonely, little old woman who tended his property when he was away. She probably should have been completely embarrassed by her assumptions, but found that she couldn't muster any emotion except sheer _relief_. "Then you aren't seeing anyone?" she whispered thickly.

He shook his head. "How could I?" he asked in a gentle tone. "No woman in her right mind would go out with a guy who's clearly head-over-heels for someone else."

Sam felt uninvited tears well up in her eyes. "I was so certain I'd missed my chance," she choked out.

Feeling his heart swell with a hundred different emotions, Jack took her face into his hands. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, clearly blown away by her reaction. "Sam, there must be thousands of guys out there more worthy of you than I am. Hell, I've always counted myself lucky to just have you as a _colleague_." His tone conveyed his sincerity as he looked with heartfelt honesty into her eyes. "How could I possibly find someone more amazing than you?" he asked, looking into her eyes intensely.

Sam felt a tiny sob slip out of her throat. "The reason I overheard your conversation is because I wanted to see if I could come fishing with you," she admitted in a small voice.

Seeing the pained sincerity on her face, Jack felt his heart break into a million pieces over the misery he'd unwittingly caused her. Leaning close, he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "There's nothing I've ever wanted more, than to get you alone up at my cabin," he replied softly.

Tears were streaming down Sam's cheeks by now. She laughed humorlessly. "So, instead of having a week alone together at your lake, we get to spend our last moments together in this musty tomb." The irony of the situation was hard to swallow.

Jack, however, refused to go down that road. Pulling away slightly, he looked into her eyes with a wry smile. "Carter, let's face it," he said directly, "as soon as Hammond realized something big was going down, we'd have been summoned back to Cheyenne Mountain anyway." He shrugged. "We probably wouldn't have had time for any real conversation, and none of _this_ would have happened," he said quietly, making it clear that he didn't regret their present situation.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, but we might have lived to get it right eventually," she replied dismally.

Jack simply smiled. "We're all gonna die someday," he said with a shrug. "If I had to pick who I'd be with at the end, I couldn't have asked for better than you."

Amazed at the simple acceptance in his tone, Sam shook her head slightly. "Aren't you bothered by the fact that now, when we've finally figured out what we want, we're never going to have a chance at a future together?"

His brown eyes flashed with intense emotion. "The one thing I learned from Charlie's death," he said quietly, "is that the future is painfully uncertain." He exhaled slowly. "After something like that happens, I think you learn to live for the present."

His words struck a chord deep within her heart. Slowly, Sam began to realize that, even without a future to look forward to, she _could_ live happily in the present – especially if that present contained the man kneeling before her. Drawing a steadying breath, Sam looked into his eyes and smiled. "Then I suppose we'd better make it a present worth living for," she whispered.

Leaning forward, Jack brushed a tender kiss on her lips. "Sounds like a plan to me," he replied gruffly, reveling in the feel of her soft mouth beneath his own.

Eyes fluttering shut, Sam melted into his embrace. "There is one thing I wish I could change about this moment," she sighed against his lips, regret evident in her voice.

Pulling his mouth from hers long enough to trail soft kisses along her jaw, Jack threaded his fingers into the soft hair at the back of her head. "What's that?" he asked absently.

Dropping her head to the side, she gasped at the sensation his feather-soft touch was creating. "I wish we had a bed," she admitted impishly.

Slowly, Jack's mouth grew still, and he gently pulled away far enough to look into her eyes. "We may not have a bed," he said with a wicked grin, "but there's a sleeping bag over there with our names written all over it."

As her own lips twisted into a matching expression of naughtiness, Sam chuckled seductively. "Well then," she whispered, "let's make the best of what we have, shall we?"

It sounded like a good idea to Jack.


	7. A Port in the Storm

A/N: And so goes another New Year's Resolution… (sigh.) Sorry for the delay. I had great intentions of rocking through this, but real life smacked me in the head. I volunteered to do a "small" web project for my Dad's company. Funny how "small" has a way of growing into TITANIC when you're not looking. And no, comparing the project to the ill-fated Atlantic vessel is not coincidental. On the bright side, I can now configure an entire web server from the ground up, integrate Apache, PHP, MySQL and Joomla on a Windows server, and even write PHP scripts with a fair amount of expertise. Amazing what one can learn in a month when they sink every moment of free time into the endeavor…

As for this long-awaited chapter, I should probably insert the obligatory, "**HOT NEKKED HEROES AHEAD**" warning. Yes. I mean sex. Of the Rated-M-For-Mature variety. Read at your own risk… or enjoyment, as the case may be!

* * *

Chapter 7 

Sliding into the half-open sleeping bag, Sam felt a smile form on her lips. "I'm still not sure about the size of this bedroll," she said lightly. As her body molded itself against his, she sighed in delight at the heat which blazed through her.

Jack closed his eyes in mute pleasure. The feel of _his_ Carter pressed against him so intimately was enough to put all of his senses into overload. "Oh, I don't know," he murmured hoarsely, "I'm kind-of enjoying the close quarters."

Was _that_ an understatement.

Sam grinned, enjoying the tension which had crept into his voice. "I am too," she reassured him quickly. Then, with a naughty twinkle in her eye, she finished her thought. "I'm just not sure I want to be… _restricted_ in the next few hours." She slid her hands under the hem of his t-shirt and slid them seductively up his muscled abdomen. "I worry that the tiny space might require me to reign in my enthusiasm."

As her words sank in, Jack found himself contemplating several _very_ intriguing mental pictures. The combination of her suggestive comments and the feel of her fingers on his bare skin was enough to send a shot of pure adrenaline rushing through his veins. "You're inventive," he rasped, meeting her sparkling blue gaze with a look of blistering heat. "I'm sure you'll think of alternate ways of expressing yourself."

Faced with the naked hunger in his dark eyes, Sam felt a shiver skitter reflexively down her spine. "I'm sure I will," she replied, tracing the line of hair on his lower belly to the button of his fatigues.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Jack realized that if he didn't start taking control of the situation, her _enthusiasm_ might bring matters to an unsatisfying conclusion before he'd even had a chance to get warmed up. Maneuvering as deftly as possible in the cramped space, Jack slid his own hands between their bodies and took hold of her wrists. "See?" he said somewhat gruffly, "You're already an overachiever." Not waiting to see if she was going to object, Jack quickly turned the tables on her and grabbed onto the hem of her t-shirt. With one forceful tug, he pulled the shirt upward, forcing her to bring her arms up so that he could wrestle it over her head and off her body entirely.

As the smooth, stretchy material of her sports bra slid against the hair-roughened expanse of his chest, Sam felt an equal mix of erotic pleasure and sharp impatience. Why the hell hadn't she left the bra off when she'd changed earlier? Exhaling audibly, she mentally cursed her inability to buck convention. She couldn't even forgo a soggy, cold undergarment when trapped underground during a hurricane, for fear of appearing brazen to her commanding officer. It was ironic, she acknowledged, that she was now feeling a little stupid for _not_ trying to appear more brazen to him.

Jack seemed to sense her irritation and chuckled softly. "Something wrong?" he teased, shifting against her slightly in an effort to generate friction between her overheated, fabric-covered flesh and the wall of his chest. When her blue eyes flashed with heat and temper, he leaned forward and brushed a lazy kiss on her mouth. "Relax, Sam," he murmured. "We're not in any rush." As if to prove his words, his hands began a slow, tortuous ascent up her belly to the lower edge of her tank bra.

Sam's eyes fluttered shut instinctively. "Maybe _you're_ not in any rush," she muttered breathlessly, "but I've been imagining this moment for the better part of a decade." When one of his fingers slid beneath the elastic of the stretchy undergarment, Sam inhaled sharply. "I'm not sure 'slow' is in my vocabulary right now," she hissed.

Understanding her impatience, Jack took pity on her and grasped the lower edge of the bra firmly. In moments, it had been tugged away and discarded on the floor beside her t-shirt, leaving her deliciously naked from the waist up.

Shivering involuntarily, Sam sighed in mute pleasure at the sensations which resulted. It hardly seemed possible that she was skin-to-skin against him. How many times had she dreamed of this? Too many to count, she was sure. She was also sure that none of her fantasies had come close to mimicking the feelings she was currently being bombarded with.

Sensing her satisfaction with their current position, Jack slid his hands between their bodies and cupped the heavy fullness of her breasts firmly. Brushing his thumbs across their taut peaks, he smiled at the soft moan his touch had induced. "Better?" he murmured softly.

Sam sucked in a fevered breath. "It's getting there," she gasped. Shifting her hips against him restlessly, she seemed to be reminding him that there were other parts of her body demanding immediate attention.

Jack's eyes glimmered in understanding. Responding to her unvoiced request, he slid his hands down to the waistband of her pants. In an impressive show of dexterity, he flicked the button open and slid her zipper down in one, smooth motion.

Chuckling in spite of her fevered need, Sam speared him with a questioning look. "You're awfully good at that," she said suspiciously.

Jack grinned. "Black ops training."

Shaking her head, Sam's amused laugh ended in a sharp gasp of pleasure as one of his hands slid into the downy triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs.

For a few moments, his fingers teased her heated flesh enticingly, drawing soft noises of mindless bliss from her throat. Then, eager to find more of her, he pulled her slacks and underpants over her gently rounded hips. "You're going to have to help me here," he muttered softly. As her passion-clouded eyes met his, he gazed at her intensely. "I don't think I can get those the rest of the way off on my own. It's a bit cramped in here," he explained, nodding slightly at the tiny confines of the sleeping bag.

Sam finally understood his directive. With about as much grace as a fish out of water, she managed to wriggle out of the unwanted garments. Shaking slightly as she reached down and pulled them out of the sleeping bag, she realized that she hadn't felt this unbalanced and uncoordinated since the night Janet had taken her out for dollar tequila shots. Apparently, she noted wryly, Jack was even more potent than Jose Cuervo.

And then, rational thought fled entirely as his hand slid back to its previous pursuit. As waves of erotic sensation spiraled through her body, Sam found herself whimpering hoarsely as she clung to the solid wall of his chest. In moments, she found herself nearing the edge of control.

With more force than she thought she could muster at that point, she roughly reached down and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from her heated flesh. Eyes blazing with intensity, she met his questioning look head-on. Perhaps it was the need to be on equal footing with him in this moment, or perhaps it was her desire to give as much as she was receiving, but in either case, Sam knew that her first trip down this particular road was going to be taken with him right beside her.

Jack searched her eyes carefully, concentrating on their nearly-supernatural ability to communicate without words. In her electric-blue gaze, he could see a blend of determination and searing desire. He wasn't sure how he managed to absorb her unspoken request, given his present state of blistering need, but somehow, he did. Leaning forward, he brushed a soft, sensual kiss on her mouth and gently slid his hand upward along her belly.

Inhaling slowly, Sam found her hands shaking as she molded her own slender fingers along the compact, muscled shape of his hips. The need to be joined with him had become a nearly physical sensation clawing in the pit of her belly. Much as she wanted to savor this moment, patience was completely beyond her at that point. Zeroing in on her target, Sam's hands reacted to her baser urges with lightning speed.

Yanking down the zipper of his fatigues with one hand, Sam slid her other down his belly, roughly pushing the fabric of his boxers out of the way. Freed from the constraining garments, Jack's erection sprang into her hand eagerly, eliciting heated groans from both of them simultaneously. For a moment, Sam desperately pondered how she could possibly maneuver his pants the rest of the way down his legs, given their cramped quarters and her complete lack of coordination. Then, as his hardened length twitched involuntarily at her touch, she growled in a very un-Carter-like manner. "To hell with it," she muttered. Refusing to wait another moment, she rolled her body on top of his and impaled herself on his straining heat.

Totally taken aback by her frenzied assault, Jack was unprepared for the feel of her liquid heat wrapped around him. Hissing sharply at the waves of pleasure which gripped him, he completely lost the ability for coherent thought.

Head tossed back in ecstasy, Sam panted with mindless abandon as she used her hips and thighs to bounce rhythmically against him, burying his throbbing length completely inside her time and again. When the sensitive spot at the junction of her thighs collided against his pelvic bone, she felt the first contractions of a cataclysmic orgasm rip through her belly.

Feeling her molten heat begin to constrict wildly around his erection, Jack found his own climax bearing down on him like a freight train. A hoarse, uncontrolled cry tore from his throat as his flesh shuddered in white-hot, frenzied release.

For what seemed like an eternity, the pair clutched each other tightly as the universe unraveled around them. Then, with the downy softness of a warm blanket, consciousness wrapped itself around them in an infinitely tender embrace.

As her eyes fluttered open, Sam found herself staring into the fathomless, dark eyes she'd come to know so well over the past seven years. For a moment, she held her breath, unsure of what she might see reflected there. A moment, however, was all she needed to absorb the deep, overwhelming emotion flickering in their depths.

Reflexively, Jack reached up and caressed the delicate line of her jaw. "I love you, Sam," he stated simply. "I should have told you that ages ago."

Sam felt a tear slip from the corner of her eye as she leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss on his mouth. "I love you too," she replied. Then, looking into his tender gaze, she smiled softly. "And no regrets, remember?" She drew a shaky breath, fighting off a wave of bittersweet emotion. "We've got each other now."

Jack nodded and pulled her snugly against him. "Now and always," he murmured.

Sam fell asleep listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

* * *

Several hours later, Jack was yanked from solid slumber by the sensation of something slamming into his chin. Biting back a ragged curse, he blinked drowsily in the pitch-blackness trying to recall where the hell he was. 

As he reached up to rub his eyes, his hand encountered something warm, round, and soft – something that felt suspiciously like a –

Suddenly, memories of the events of the night before crashed into his brain, overwhelming him with their intensity. Sliding his hand to a more appropriate location, Jack abruptly realized that Sam had pushed herself up on one arm, gasping for breath. He also realized that _her head_ was the solid object which had collided with his chin.

"Carter? What is it?" He belatedly realized that using her last name might be a bit insulting, given all that had passed between them in the last few hours. Still, he figured he deserved _some_ leeway in their present situation, seeing as how he was still mostly asleep and how calling her 'Carter' had become a reflex over the past seven years.

For her part, Sam didn't seem to notice his slip. "I… I had a dream," she stammered. In the darkness, her ragged breathing echoed off the walls of the tomb.

Jack squeezed her gently. "Shhh," he whispered. "It's only a nightmare."

Unexpectedly, however, Sam shook her head vigorously. "No," she replied, sounding both tense and uncertain. "It wasn't a nightmare." Before he had a chance to reply, she looked into his eyes with feverishly. "It was an inspiration." Her voice rang with quiet urgency. "Jack," she whispered, "We've got to get up and face that storm." She fairly trembled with the importance of her next statement.

"I know how to save Earth."


	8. Gathering Darkness

A/N: To all those who have stuck with my unfortunate lapse in updates, I greatly appreciate the support! Hopefully, things in the "real world" will slow down a tad – and if the snow here ever melts, I might begin to hope for spring (and the end of the school year.)

If you're bored, please drop by my website – glowingpuddle DOT com. It's been updated – new look, integrated forums that don't require a second login, and even a thread for you to throw fanfic prompts at authors (like yours truly!)

Hope this isn't too angsty for you. (But, come on, it IS an apocalypse piece!) I was inspired by SciFi reruns of Divide and Conquer…

* * *

Chapter 8

Still struggling to shed the last vestiges of sleep, Jack blinked at her uncertainly for a moment. "You know how to save Earth?"

Sam was searching the area around the bedroll for her carelessly discarded clothes. "Yes," she replied distractedly. Sighing in frustration, she fairly oozed tension. "Where the hell is my bra?"

The familiar urgency of Sam in "crisis mode" was at such odds with the subject of her muttered question, Jack couldn't help chuckling. As she speared him with an impatient glare, he raised his hands defensively. "Sorry, Sam. I'm just not used to seeing you fumble for your underwear when the fate of the world is on the line." His humor seemed to be lost on her as she frantically continued to look for her clothing. Gently, he reached up and took her hands, halting her agitated movements with his calm touch. "How about stopping for a second to explain exactly what's going on?" As she opened her mouth to object, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her lips, effectively silencing her protest. Slowly, she gave into the warmth of his caress, melting against him in helpless surrender.

Glad to have her attention, but reluctant to break the contact, Jack spoke softly against her mouth. "If we really do have to leave our sleeping bag to face that storm, I'd like to know _why_." Finally, he pulled away and looked meaningfully into her eyes. "The world isn't going to end in the two minutes it takes for you to explain it to me."

His measured composure seemed to settle over her like a soothing blanket. Slowly, some of the tension left her shoulders. "You're right," she admitted quietly. Taking a deep breath, she collected her thoughts for a moment before starting her explanation. "This happens to me a lot," she began. When his eyebrows shot up in amused surprise, she hastened to clarify. "Not _this,_" she said, gesturing back and forth between the two of them as a blush crept into her cheeks. "I meant that sometimes when I'm faced with a problem that I can't answer right away, my brain seems to keep working on it subconsciously." She shrugged. "It's actually a fairly common phenomenon. Haven't you ever given up trying to remember something, only to have it occur to you two days later?"

Jack shrugged dryly. "Sure. But I'm not usually trying to remember something that could save Earth from utter destruction." His eyes twinkled. "And I'm pretty sure there are activities during which _my_ brain completely shuts off, subconscious and all." He grinned suggestively. "You really must be a genius if your mind was hard at work while we were–"

Sam cut him off, blushing radioactively. "Even geniuses turn their brains off during… certain activities," she mumbled, ignoring his amused chuckle. "But I am pretty sure my brain was hard at work while I was _sleeping_."

Suddenly struck by the urge to brush a lock of hair from her adorably flushed face, Jack reached up and did so. A pang of bittersweet emotion swept through him as soon as the action registered. How many times had he resisted that urge? And how many more opportunities would he have to give into it again? Shoving the melancholy thought from his head, he focused on her delicate features. "So tell me, Major… What did your overactive brain come up with while the rest of you was sleeping?"

Sam opened her mouth, then closed it again, apparently trying to formulate an appropriately non-technical explanation. Sighing in frustration, she glanced across the shadowy space to the blinking LED which identified her laptop in the darkness. "Hold on a second," she muttered. Then, much to Jack's amused astonishment, she grabbed the nearest t-shirt – his, he believed – yanked it over her head, and scooted from the cozy sleeping bag with a small shriek of discomfort. Dancing across the musty tomb in an effort to keep contact between her bare feet and the cold, dusty floor to a minimum, she grabbed her computer and hurried back to the warm covers. Sliding into the space beside him, Sam shivered with delight as the heat from his body eased the chill from her skin.

Jack smiled as she tucked herself into the space beneath his chin as though it was the most natural place in the world for her to be. Part of him was amazed at how quickly they'd fallen into such affectionate, comfortable habits, given their extremely short period of intimacy. At the same time, he acknowledged that there was another part of him which had always known it would be this way. As she settled spoon-fashion in front of him, she propped herself up on one elbow and opened the lid of her computer. Interested in what she was about to reveal, he followed her lead and also sat up slightly, brushing a kiss on her cotton-clad shoulder in the process.

Sam smiled at the gesture. There was something remarkably liberating about being able to openly accept affection from him after so many years of having to squelch those feelings. Now, basking in the comforting warmth which radiated from his solid frame, Sam wondered how she could have lived without it for so long.

Just then, her computer beeped softly as it woke from hibernation, reminding her of exactly what her immediate purpose was. Pushing a wave of sadness aside, Sam quickly used the touch pad on the machine to bring up a satellite map of Earth which had been sent in the last transmission from the SGC. "This shows the weather patterns over the continental US over the last twenty-four hours," she explained softly, pointing to an unusually thick ring of clouds over the entire Rocky Mountain region which had seemingly appeared out of nowhere about a day ago. "Trust me when I say this is going to have meteorologists all over the world scratching their heads." She sighed. "Normal storms have their origins over large bodies of water. Moisture evaporates into the atmosphere where it is carried by air currents over land. Typically, land on the eastern side of the Rockies is much drier than land on the west. This is because as the moist air rises over the mountains, it cools and loses its ability to hold onto that moisture. By the time the air crosses the highest elevations, it has dropped most of its water in the form of rain and snow."

Jack nodded slightly. He'd watched enough of the Weather Channel to understand her explanation. "Something tells me this odd ring of clouds doesn't really fit with what you just said."

Sam exhaled slowly. "You can say that again. Somehow, areas of dense clouds just… _materialized_ over some of the driest regions of the US. The moisture wasn't brought in via air currents. It just… appeared."

Wondering if he was missing something, Jack looked at her carefully. "I thought you said you knew what was going on."

She waved dismissively. "I do _now_. But yesterday when I looked at this, I was as stumped as the SGC scientists who sent it to me." She ran the time-lapse pictures backwards slowly until the first hints of clouds appeared on the map. "This is what threw me," she said, pointing to a large area of Colorado where the storms had first sprung up. "Just like everyone else, I saw where these clouds first appeared and figured they must have been caused by the energy coming out of the gate."

Jack blinked. "They weren't?"

Sam worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. "Not exactly." Shifting slightly, she turned her attention from the computer screen to his face as she continued her explanation. "See, the thing is, the energy coming from this planet is composed of seemingly-random, low-frequency radio waves." She shook her head. "There's no way this kind of wave could have any effect on the weather on Earth. If it could, we'd have known about it half a century ago. There's absolutely no difference between the waves on this planet and the transmissions of most commercial radio stations."

Thoroughly enjoying her technobabble, Jack resisted the urge to plant a kiss on her nose, for fear of distracting her. "So this planet _isn't_ causing the weather on Earth?"

She frowned slightly. "Unfortunately, it's not that simple." She turned back to the computer screen. "See how the first clouds formed over Colorado?" she asked, waiting for his answering nod before continuing. "We all assumed that the presence of those clouds meant the storms had originated at the gate." She clicked forward a few hours until a definite ring-shaped pattern of storms could be seen over the western US. "But look at this," she said, pointing to the vaguely-circular formation. "If the storms originated at the gate, you'd expect that this ring would be centered over Cheyenne Mountain, or at least someplace in Colorado."

Startled by her assessment, Jack had to admit it made sense. Leaning forward, he looked at the map more closely. "I'm no meteorologist, but I'd say the center of those clouds is much further southwest than Colorado."

Sam nodded. "Exactly. And even if the center migrated with prevailing winds, it should have moved northeast, not southwest."

Jack regarded her steadily. "So what does that mean?"

She once again pointed to the map. "What if the weather didn't start in Colorado at all? What if it actually started someplace to the southwest of Cheyenne Mountain?" Her voice held the familiar note of excitement which always appeared when she'd figured out a monumental problem.

He raised an eyebrow. "I assume, by your tone, that this was a rhetorical question." She obviously already had an answer.

She grinned, amused at how well he knew her. Rolling onto her back, she finished her explanation looking up into his intelligent, brown eyes. "Low frequency radio waves don't have enough power to affect water molecules in the atmosphere," she said matter-of-factly, "but their cousins higher up on the electromagnetic spectrum do." When he responded with a look of vague confusion, she tried a simpler tack. "How do you usually reheat a cold cup of coffee?" she asked.

He blinked. "In the microwave?"

Sam smiled encouragingly. "Exactly. Believe it or not, microwaves are just high-energy radio waves. There's an entire spectrum of waves that fall into the "radio" category, and they're not all used to transmit music or sports broadcasts. Most wireless devices and cell phones use low-frequency microwaves to communicate, because they're more powerful than standard radio waves. And, of course, there are the microwaves which we generate and use in our kitchens. These waves are precisely the correct wavelength to excite the water molecules in our food, making them move around faster. And, since molecular motion is really just heat energy, our food gets warm. Theoretically, if a microwave of the correct frequency was emitted into the atmosphere, it could have the same effect on the water molecules in the air. The water molecules would start bumping into each other, generating heat energy. And what results when water and heat energy meet in our atmosphere?"

Jack exhaled. "Storms." He might not understand all of what she said, but _that_ he got – loud and clear.

Sam smiled faintly. "Thing is, if the whole chain reaction started over a very dry area, it probably wouldn't result in storms immediately. Only when the thermal energy hit a place with adequate moisture would storms start to develop."

He glanced back at the computer screen. "Which is why the first storms seemed to appear over Colorado."

She nodded. "Colorado is northeast of the place where the microwave transmission originated. It makes sense that the first clouds would appear there, since prevailing winds would have pushed the small pockets of superheated air directly over Cheyenne Mountain."

Jack looked stunned. "So the fact that the storms first popped up almost directly over the stargate was pure coincidence?"

Sam smiled humorlessly. "Yup."

His eyes narrowed. "But when I suggested that the energy from this planet had nothing to do with the weather on Earth, you said it wasn't that simple."

She grinned at him. "You were listening," she said proudly.

He winked. "When I have a mostly-naked Carter in my bed, I can be _very_ attentive."

Blushing at his suggestive tone, she tried to route the conversation back to his original question. "The radio waves coming from the gate weren't directly responsible for the storms," she explained, "but they were still a major part of the cause." Taking a deep breath, she got to the crux of her revelation. "Do you remember that strange device we found on P5X-146 about a month ago?"

Jack squinted in concentration. "146… 146…" Suddenly, his eyes flew open. "Was that the planet with all those weird rock formations?"

She nodded. "Yes. We were exploring the ruins of an abandoned Goa'uld outpost when we found that odd piece of equipment."

He seemed remember what she was talking about. "You and Daniel couldn't figure out what it did," he recalled.

Sam shrugged. "That's not exactly true. We knew _what_ it did. We just had no idea _why_ it did it."

Jack's eyes zeroed in on hers. "I assume that since you're bringing it up now, it has something to do with our current situation?"

She sighed deeply. "Unfortunately, yes." Closing her eyes for a moment, she wished she didn't have to finish her explanation. More than anything, she wished she could keep her discovery to herself and stay here in this man's arms for the rest of her inevitably very short life. Regardless of what her brain had uncovered about Earth's problems, nothing she'd thought up would help their own predicament. They'd have to give up precious hours trudging through the dangerous storm to the gate so that they could convey their message to the SGC. And, since it would take hours for the SGC to verify her conclusions and fix the problem, she knew they would be unable to wait at the gate for clearance to return home. Instead, they'd have to plod back to this meager shelter again, wasting yet more time. Realistically, they both knew that a trip to and from the gate was likely a suicide mission. And yet, if she could use her discoveries to save the planet and people she loved most, she really had no choice but to act.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to fill in the final few blanks for him. "The device we brought back from P5X-146 seemed to take random radio waves, change their frequency, and re-emit them on a continuous playback loop with astonishing amplitude, giving them huge amounts of power and the ability to travel great distances." She sighed again. "We had no idea what such a device could be used for." Her smile was sad. "I guess now we do." Swallowing, she pointed feebly back at the map. "We sent the device to Area 51 when we gave up on uncovering a purpose for it."

Jack's eyes darkened. "And area 51 is southwest of Cheyenne Mountain, directly in the center of those storms." Suddenly, the true nature of her words seemed to hit him squarely in the forehead. "Are you saying we were set up? That some System Lord planted the device in those ruins, hoping we'd take it home and stash it someplace until we ran across _this_ planet?"

Sam shrugged. "Wouldn't be beyond them. We've seen more convoluted schemes from System Lords in the past."

Jack looked completely unsettled. "So neither the device nor the energy from this planet were enough to cause global destruction by themselves," he said grimly.

She shook her head. "Nope. It required both. The gate could have easily acted as an amplifier for the radio waves being transmitted from this planet, allowing them to reach Area 51. The signal didn't have to be strong for the device to pick it up. Even a faint, noisy transmission would have been enough to trigger it. Presumably, the radio waves here were carefully formulated so that, when translated by the device, they would generate the right frequency of microwaves to disrupt our weather patterns."

Jack blinked. "What about this planet? Is _this_ storm being caused by that type of device?"

She shrugged. "Probably. But the device could be literally anywhere on this planet. We have virtually no hope of finding it and disabling it in time to reverse the weather patterns here."

Sagging under the weight of her revelations, Jack sank back into the bedroll. "Damn," he muttered. His next words were spoken softly into the darkness. "Presumably, if we get this information to Earth, they can turn off or destroy the device at Area 51 and stop the weather there, before it becomes destructive on a global scale?"

Sam nodded mutely.

He sighed. "Then, you're right. We have to go back out into that storm." Slowly sitting back up, he looked down into her worried eyes and traced the contours of her face with tender intensity. Slowly, a shadow crossed his features. "_Damn_," he said again, this time more forcefully. At her look of surprise, he smiled humorlessly. "I was okay with the idea of spending my last days here with you, cocooned in this sleeping bag with each other for company," he explained quietly, "but now that we've got to face the end up there, soaking wet and pelted by rain and debris…" Jack trailed off. Swallowing, he reached up and caressed her cheek gently. "Much as I don't want to have any regrets, I'm not sure I can help it," he rasped. "We should have had more time than this."

Sam nodded, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "I know," she replied simply.

Unwilling to tread farther down that path, Jack leaned forward and brushed a sweet, achingly tender kiss on her lips. "Maybe the next time around, we'll have better luck," he murmured softly.

Swallowing back a wave of bitter emotion, Sam tried not to dwell on the complete injustice of their current situation. Instead, she sucked in a deep, steadying breath, looked him in the eye, and said the words they both were dreading.

"Let's get dressed. It's time to save the world."


	9. Tempest

A/N: For those of you worried about the ending to this little piece… Please refer back to the summary at the start of Chapter 1.

And, again, sorry for the delay on this – but, at least this one had a worthy cause. I was involved in other writing projects. Look for them soon.

Anyway, with that in mind, let's get on with _this_ little show…

* * *

Chapter 9

Dressed in his rain gear, Jack looked at Sam with his trademark 'confused' face. "Tell me again why, after alerting Earth to your genius solution, we can't just gate somewhere else to wait out the storm?"

Sam sighed. "If I knew _for sure_ I was right, we could." Shrugging, she pulled the zipper up on the waterproof coveralls Jack had brought for her. "But, until the SGC confirms that pulling the plug on the other device has stopped the weather issues, I just can't recommend opening the gate to any other planets." Gazing down at her protective gear, she seemed to wilt under the weight of her thoughts. "If I'm wrong, we could bring about global destruction on a _third_ planet."

Jack regarded her steadily. "So, we wait for the 'all clear' from the SGC before trying to get off this godforsaken rock." His words were hopeful, but his tone was grim.

Nodding, Sam continued to look at her coveralls, refusing to meet his persistent gaze. She'd been out in that storm. She knew that their chances for survival were slim, to say the least.

While he understood her emotions, Jack wasn't about to let her get away with hiding from him. "Carter," he said gently, "this is _not_ your fault."

Blue eyes flashing with guilt and anger, she finally turned her attention to his face. "How can you say that?" she cried. "_Neither_ of us would be here if I'd followed military protocol!"

Jack's dark eyes twinkled. "I don't know," he drawled suggestively, "I kind of like it when you break military protocol."

Immediately turning bright red, Sam was obviously flustered by his words. "Don't." she breathed. "Just… don't."

Exhaling slowly, Jack took three steps and pulled her into his arms. "Sam, what's done is done." He brushed a kiss on her crown. "You can't change it." The soft note of melancholy in his voice left no doubt that he, too, wanted a different ending to this story – but there was also an underlying feel of acceptance to his words. "We always knew this job could be the end of us." He shrugged. "Maybe we can keep it from being the end of Earth."

Sagging into his embrace, she buried her face into the crook of his neck. The prickly texture of two days' unshaven stubble tickled the spot on her temple which rested against his chin. "I hope so," she replied, gratefully accepting his quiet strength.

For a moment, they simply stood there, absorbing the other's presence. Both of the battle-seasoned soldiers knew they were facing death – they'd done so on too many other occasions to doubt it. But, for the first time, they were also facing something entirely new. In as much as they'd braved global destruction countless times before, neither had ever felt the weight of it quite as heavily as they did now.

They'd never had quite so much to lose before.

Finally, knowing that the moment to act had arrived, Jack brushed a final kiss on her brow before pulling away. "Ready to face the Beast?" he asked, for once completely serious.

Sam straightened with grim determination. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Picking up their packs, the pair turned and strode up the stone stairs in silence.

* * *

The two officers had prepared for driving rain, gale-force winds, and flash flooding before leaving the relative safety of the tomb. They'd fully expected to confront category-four hurricane conditions on the surface.

Nothing, however, could have prepared them for the fury of the storm which greeted them. It was, quite simply, apocalyptic.

The moment they pried open the heavy stone lid, speaking became impossible, and even hand signals were difficult to interpret. The wind propelled rain and other debris at astonishing speed, making their few inches of exposed skin sting uncomfortably. In short order, however, they managed to slide the cover stone back into place, wedging the yellow rain slicker under its immense weight so that, in the unlikely event they did return to this place, they might again find shelter in the tomb's quiet depths.

Ever the commander, Jack immediately took point, trudging forward with a slow, measured pace. The ceaseless wind and flying debris made every step risky and uncertain. Every time a particularly harsh gust threatened to topple him, he stopped to look over his shoulder, needing to be sure that Sam's smaller body hadn't succumbed to the gale-force winds.

The gate was probably no more than two miles from the tomb, but the conditions slowed their trek to a snail's pace. Jack quickly found himself lost in the painful haze of physical exertion that he'd long since learned to master by removing his mind from his present circumstances. Building a rhythm of steps and breathing, he soon retreated into the quiet space inside himself where the pain in his body simply didn't exist.

To say that the events of the last twenty-four hours had been eventful would be an understatement. He'd gone from the lowest low – when he'd seen that blasted rain slicker on the ground – to what was arguably one of the best moments of his life, holding onto his brave, gorgeous, incredible Carter as she'd flown into a million perfect pieces. After years of bitter self-denial and uncertainty, their one night together in paradise had been everything he could have wanted. Even now, trudging dismally through the storm which was likely to kill them both, he couldn't muster a single regret for the time they'd spent here.

As minutes bled into hours, Jack found himself growing fatigued and weary. He was fairly certain that they'd reach the gate and get their message through. Anything after that, however…

He squinted grimly into the driving rain. If he was nearing exhaustion, he knew Carter had to be feeling it doubly so. She'd already hiked through this hell for most of a day before he'd arrived. And, unlike him, she hadn't had the benefit of weather-resistant gear during her miserable trek. He knew that she would eventually reach her limits. And, God help him, if she was unable to go on, he was going to drag her until he couldn't.

After that…

Well, he wouldn't leave her behind. Whatever that meant.

Finally, after what felt like years, a familiar, circular shadow began looming on the horizon. He glanced over his shoulder and could see the relief etched on his second-in-command's exhausted face. No matter what happened from here, at least they now stood a chance at saving their home planet from impending doom – even if they couldn't say the same for themselves.

Barely able to catch enough breath to move forward, Sam couldn't even imagine trying to yell over the howling winds. Instead, she counted on Jack understanding what she needed to do, and simply got to work.

Pulling her pack off her back, Sam staggered to the DHD and crouched beside it. The heavy pedestal offered a small amount of shelter from the driving elements, allowing her to tug open the zipper and pull out her laptop.

Praying that she could get their precious message out before the rain rendered her computer useless, Sam began typing frantically. She really needed Jack to start opening the gate, but she simply didn't have the energy to –

The familiar sound of the gate starting to spin brought an exhausted smile to her face. Of _course_ he'd know what to do. Their nearly-supernatural bond was nothing new. Looking up, she locked eyes with him for a moment, wordlessly thanking him for reading her mind. He simply smiled in return, reminding her of why she'd follow him to hell and back.

It seemed to take an eternity for the seven chevrons to lock in place. When they did, the normally overpowering sound of the event horizon whooshing into existence was barely audible above the howling, gale-force winds. In a moment of inspiration, Jack pulled his sleeve up and sent his GDO code. The code wouldn't open the iris for them – they'd been barred from returning – but it would at least provide confirmation that the forthcoming message was, in fact, from SG-1.

Extremely conscious of every second which ticked past, Sam tapped out her last few keystrokes, sending the important encrypted data-stream through the gate. Her computer beeped once in confirmation, though she could barely hear it over the fury of the storm. Heaving a relieved sigh, she looked up at Jack and nodded once.

It was done.

With a heavy hand, Jack hit the glowing center of the DHD, causing the shimmering event horizon to blink out of existence.

Their mission accomplished, Sam and Jack simply stared at each other for a moment, understanding exactly what their circumstances now entailed. The walk here had sapped them of nearly all their strength. Returning to the tomb would be…

Impossible.

Plain and simple.

There was no way they'd make it – making an attempt would be nothing short of suicide. And they both knew it.

With the grim certainty of someone who'd faced death before, Jack crouched down and took Sam's hands in his. The small shelter provided by the DHD's heavy stone pedestal quieted the winds enough so that his words could be heard.

"It'll probably be hours before they know if your idea worked," he said gruffly.

Sam nodded in confirmation, but said nothing.

"I think we should stay here." He looked at the murky, roiling gloom on the horizon. "It's not much of a chance, but I think it's all we've got."

Meeting his eyes with complete acceptance, Sam nodded again. "Whatever you think is best." It was clear by the resigned tone of her voice that she didn't think it mattered one way or another.

Jack looked up at the looming gate and sighed. "Might not be a good idea to be this close to the tallest object on the horizon – especially when that object conducts electricity." The nearly omnipresent flashes of lightning and peals of thunder made any further explanation unnecessary.

Sam simply shrugged. "This is the only shelter anywhere near here." Nodding into the murky turbulence of the storm, she pointed to bits of rock and wood which flew dangerously about. "I think our chances of getting hit with debris out there are higher than our chances of getting hit by lightning here."

As she finished speaking, a particularly fierce – and close – crash of thunder exploded violently. Jack smiled wryly. "You sure about that?"

She smiled back. "No. But, all other things being equal, I'd rather be electrocuted than impaled."

He nodded once and settled more comfortably beside her. "Hard to argue with that kind of logic."

As they stared out into the growing darkness, both soldiers seemed to understand that this was likely to be their last battle. Looking down at his fearless second-in-command, Jack found himself extremely grateful to have her at his side during these grim moments. Without a second thought, he slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her up against him in a quiet display of affection.

Nestling against his chest, Sam closed her eyes and sagged with fatigue. Cold and fear had drained the strength from her body, leaving her close to an exhausted state of hypothermia. She knew that closing her eyes could be deadly in her state, but also knew that there was little point in trying to fight it. Either the gate would open, and they'd be rescued… or it wouldn't, and they'd be dead.

In any event, she was glad to have the arms of the man she loved wrapped around her while she waited to see which outcome came to pass.

* * *

Hours… or days… or an eternity later, Jack was pulled from a his semi-consciousness by the sound of the gate spinning.

Holy shit.

Had they really survived this?

Numbly, he shook Carter's sleeping form, trying to rouse her awake. "Sam," he rasped, barely able to form words with his frozen, raw throat. "We made it."

And that's when he looked at her face.

Sudden, blinding panic overwhelmed as he noted two immediate and undeniable things. First was that Sam's face was unnaturally pale – even accounting for the pale, blue light of the event horizon which illuminated her delicate features.

Second, and much more damning, was the thin trickle of blood which slid down her ghostly-white cheek. Heart in his throat, Jack's eyes searched the area for some sign of what had caused the damage. Much to his dismay, they quickly settled upon a sizeable chunk of stone which had apparently landed beside her after inflicting its damage. Immediately, Jack felt a sickening wave of guilt. How, he wondered, had he blithely held her while she'd been struck by the flying projectile? And why the hell hadn't the rock struck _him_ instead?

Vaguely, in the distance, he could hear the sounds of SGC personnel emerging from the gate. Somewhere in his mind, he registered that this meant they'd probably saved Earth from yet another possible cataclysmic end.

And yet, none of that mattered in the slightest. All his conscious brain could comprehend at that moment was the fact that his vibrant, amazing, super-genius Carter was barely clinging to life.

And if she didn't make it, he was fairly certain he didn't want to.


	10. Aftermath

A/N: Okay… I do apologize for the delays. I'm sure I've lost some of you along the way, but my absence here was simply unavoidable. Health issues have held me hostage (like the alliteration there?) for months, I'm afraid. But, having just returned from GATECON, where I visited JACK'S CABIN and stood next to RICHARD DEAN ANDERSON and CLIFF SIMON (and many other awesome SG-1 stars!!) I couldn't help but be inspired to write more. Please check out my live journal (karibou-sg-1 DOT livejournal DOT com) in the coming days for pictures of the con!

And, aside from standing next to RDA (and, okay, staring _obsessively_ at Cliff Simon's butt…) my favorite part of the 'con was meeting so many of you who I've met through writing fanfiction. It was an absolute blast to see the cool, interesting people that you all are!!

Thanks for hanging with me. Again.

* * *

Chapter 10

The rhythmic _beep, beep, beep_ of the cardiac monitor should have done something to soothe Jack's ragged emotional state. It did, after all, indicate that Sam was alive and stable. Somehow, however, he didn't feel at all comforted by the noise. Her unnatural stillness and ghostly complexion were just too overwhelming for him to find any peace of mind.

This was _not_ how their adventure was supposed to end. From the moment he'd found her holed up in that tomb, they'd wordlessly agreed to be a _team_. They were supposed to rise – or fall – together.

"You're still here? You really should get some sleep, sir."

Jerking upright, Jack blinked somewhat groggily at Janet's familiar figure in the infirmary's door. The fact that he hadn't heard the door open was testament to his tremendous distraction. "I'm fine," he said flatly. He knew he was acting irrationally, but simply didn't have it in him to care. Looking back at Sam's frighteningly white features reinforced his determination to stay at her side. It would take a direct order to uproot him from this spot.

Janet examined him carefully, her sharp eyes missing none of the ragged exhaustion on his face. She'd seen him hover over a teammate's sickbed many times before, but never with this level of intensity. Even Daniel had commented on it. Stepping more fully into the room, she spoke gently. "She's not likely to wake up any time soon. And when she does wake up, she's going to need you to be at full strength."

Jack's jaw flexed stubbornly. "I said _I'm fine_." His tone brooked no argument.

Sighing quietly, Janet recognized the determined set of his chin. With a quick glance back to ensure the infirmary door had swung shut, she slowly pulled up a second chair beside his. "Sir," she began diplomatically, "I can see you're concerned." _Was that an understatement._ "But you can't sit here indefinitely."

His brown eyes turned on her defiantly. "Says who?"

Janet considered the stubborn glint in his eyes and knew that brute force was simply not going to work here. The iron-steady resolve in his eyes hinted that even a direct order could require enforcement from a few burly MPs. Swallowing, she decided to roll the proverbial die. "All right." Silently praying she wasn't about to make a sizeable career blunder, Janet forged boldly ahead. "Let's just pretend, for a moment, that we're not Air Force officers… okay, _Jack_?" She paused, carefully watching his response.

Surprise, annoyance, and anxiety all flashed across Jack's features in rapid succession before he finally seemed to settle on an attitude of wary surrender. "Sure… _Janet_." A note of sarcasm had crept into his voice. Clearly, he wasn't keen on having this particular discussion.

Janet took a deep breath and considered her words with great care. "Look… Sam is my friend, too," she said simply, feeling a knot of emotion creeping into her throat. As a doctor, she was able to force her feelings aside to do her job. But whenever she was treating a colleague and friend, those feelings were always present in the background, ready to seep out through the cracks in her armor. "I'm very, _very_ concerned about her." Janet's words were nearly a whisper. Clearing her throat, she tried to regain an air of professional distance. "She has a head injury – a seriously one." In spite of her best efforts, she felt the gravity of those words like a weight on her shoulders. "I'd like to be able to offer _both_ of us some words of comfort, but this type of injury is notoriously unpredictable. As a physician, there's nothing I can say which is going to make you feel better." She sighed, looking at her friend's pale, still features. "But, as Sam's friend, I feel like there are some things I _can_ say." Chewing on her lip for a moment, Janet gathered her nerve and looked her long-time colleague squarely in the eye. "I have no idea what happened on that planet," she said quietly, "but I can see that _something_ has changed."

Jack raised a hand defensively. "Listen, Doc, I really don't think–"

She cut him off ruthlessly. "No, _you_ listen." Her tone was unyielding. "If you think you can anchor yourself to her bedside and mope like this without drawing attention to yourself, you're wrong."

His eyes glinted dangerously. "You say that as though I _care_ whether I draw attention to myself."

Janet, however, wasn't cowed in the slightest. "You may not," she retorted, "but _Sam_ would." Her words rang with conviction. "We both know she'd throw a fit if she knew you were endangering your career over this."

Jack glared at her. "And as soon as she opens her eyes and tells me that, I'm sure I'll take her opinion into account."

Eyes narrowing, Janet knew it was time to stop pulling punches. "Okay, then, how about this?" She leaned forward to maximize the impact of her words. "Have you considered _Sam's_ career?" She paused to let that particular thought sink in. "It would be a shame to have her pull through all this, only to end up in hot water for fraternization." It was a low blow, but something she knew Sam would approve of. Janet knew that, more than anything, Sam would _never_ want Jack to endanger his career over her, especially while she was helpless to do anything about it. As Sam's friend, she knew she had to keep the situation under control until the other woman was capable of sorting through things on her own.

Jack's swift intake of breath indicated his understanding. "_Damn._"

The expression of pained guilt on his features was enough to make Janet somewhat remorseful. "Look," she continued pleadingly, "I'm not saying that the Air Force is an impassable obstacle." In all honesty, she'd be damn surprised if Hammond _didn't_ find some workable solution. "But you two _were_ on an official mission. So maybe, it would be best if you waited until she recovers before trying to cross that particular bridge."

His eyes were suddenly bleak. "Assuming she _does_ recover…"

Janet's heart swelled with emotion. "She will." Her tone was unwavering.

Looking at the ghostly figure on the bed beside them, Jack's stomach clenched in fear. _She'd better,_ he thought. Because if she didn't, he was pretty sure he wouldn't, either.

* * *

Surrounded by bewildering curtains of darkness and confusion, Sam felt herself wandering aimlessly through an alien landscape. She knew the gate had to be somewhere nearby – she never would have wandered so far from it unescorted. Wrinkling her brow uncertainly, she somehow understood that this was a hard lesson she'd recently re-learned. And yet, she couldn't quite recall _how_ she knew that.

Her constant and relentless search for a way home was punctuated only by moments of self-directed anger and frustration. She had the sinking feeling that she – and no one else – was squarely to blame for her present state of misdirection. But, again, the details were fuzzy.

If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could imagine the presence of people she loved nearby. Janet's steady, healing presence was almost always there… and occasionally, she could imagine Daniel's brotherly affection or Teal'c's protective gaze skimming the surface of her consciousness. But, of course, none of those sensations even began to compare to the rock-steady foundation which miraculously sprouted beneath her feet when _he_ was there.

Sometimes, if she concentrated very hard, she could almost hear him issuing orders for her to return safely. The note of terrified concern in his voice was both disturbing and motivating. He _must_ care about her tremendously to sound so shaken by her absence.

She would not let him down.

And so, prodded by his desperation and supported by the presence of her dearest friends, Sam resolutely continued to battle the darkness around her, searching for the glowing puddle of light which would lead her home.

* * *

"You look like hell."

Blinking the weary grit of too-little sleep from his eyes, Jack glared at Daniel in dark warning. "Your point?" He really wasn't up for chit-chat.

The archaeologist, however, wasn't remotely affected by Jack's black mood. He had, in fact, been expecting this reaction. Stepping completely into Sam's infirmary room, he leaned against the wall, giving his friend plenty of space. "It's been a week, Jack. Hammond is going to want us to start working again soon." His words were purposefully simple.

Closing his eyes again, Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Yeah. I know." A note of bitter resignation rang in his quiet reply.

Daniel watched the other man carefully. "Will you?"

Jack blinked. "Will I what?"

Pausing, Daniel glanced at Sam's unmoving form on the bed before returning to his friend. "Go back to work when asked to?"

Turning to the silent, prone woman beside him, Jack studied her lovely features intently as he considered his response. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

Daniel nodded, not surprised by the answer. Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer. "It's not like the soap operas, you know."

Jack looked up at his friend, clearly confused again.

Gesturing to Sam, Daniel tried to explain as gently as possible. "Waking up from a coma. On TV, the victim always flutters her eyelids gracefully and then whispers the name of the person hovering over her bedside." He looked at Jack sympathetically. "In real life, fluttering eyelids are usually just a reflex at the beginning. Waking up can take days… weeks… even months."

Swallowing back a wave of pain at the other man's words, Jack simply nodded. "Yeah. I know. Doc Frasier explained."

Daniel took another step forward. "And I'm sure Janet has also been pushing you to follow orders when duty does call you back." His voice held a note of something meaningful.

Jack's eyebrows shot up instantly. "You're not?" To say he was surprised by the idea was an understatement.

Now standing beside Jack at Sam's bedside, Daniel's eyes skimmed over her nearly-translucent skin. "No," he said finally. "I'm not." Turning to his friend, his face was painted with his own considerable grief. "She's going to need help when she wakes up." His next statement was emphatic. "She's going to need _you_."

Jack sat back in his chair, absorbing this development with complete astonishment. "You think I should… retire?"

Considering his reply carefully, Daniel again focused on Sam's motionless form. "_I'd_ quit if I thought it would do her any good to have me around 24/7. Hell, so would Teal'c. But we've talked about it, Jack. And we think Janet is wrong." He took a slow, deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "Janet is doing what she thinks Sam would want in this situation. Let's face it, _Sam_ wouldn't want any of us to sacrifice for her – she's just not that kind of person. I think Janet is just trying to make sure Sam's opinion is heard." He smiled humorlessly. "I guess I'm just a little more selfish than that. Personally, I think that whether she _wants_ help or not, she's going to _need_ it." His blue eyes shone with intensity. "And I think it's pretty obvious that the person who's got the best chance at helping her through this is _you_."

The two men stared at each other for a moment as a powerful aura of understanding coalesced around them. Without words, the unlikely friends sized up the gravity of the situation and pondered the best strategy for conquering it.

After a moment, Jack nodded slowly. "I'll talk to Hammond."

Exhaling a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Daniel felt the tension pour out of his body. "Good." He wasn't entirely sure why_, _but he was overwhelmed by the gut feeling that things had just taken a mighty turn for the better.


	11. The Calm Which Follows

Yeah... So... As I reread this for the first time since 2008, I had to laugh at my New Year's Resolution back then.

I guess you could say I failed. Epically.

Yeah, yeah. I know. WHERE THE HECK HAVE I BEEN?

Let's just say that life descended and Muse fled. It's now 2013. (*wince*) In the last 5 years, I've divorced, contended with the disability of my son (who is autistic), moved twice, found new love... and succumbed to a complete and total breakdown of mind, body, and spirit. I... lost myself. I lost THIS. I'm pretty sure that fanfiction is a part of my past and not my future, but tonight I saw a series of comments pile into my email inbox about this story. I cringed, knowing that the last comment would be desperate and probably irate. It wouldn't be the first of these comments to fall into my inbox in five years. But it WAS the first one to hit me at a time when I thought I could finally achieve closure.

And so, dear friends and readers... I give you my swan song. My new outlet is a visual one - I've become a somewhat accomplished 3D artist in these past few years. However, much as that hobby has sustained me through my breakdown, it's worth noting... the avatar on my art page is a giant, pink, animated K (wearing antlers) standing in front of an opening stargate. Feel free to stop by. I'm at karibous-boutique dot deviantart dot com. I'd love to see you there. I do take suggestions for artwork. And if you tell me you've read my fanfic, I promise I'll create something just for you.

Writing these stories connected me to a lot of amazing people. I have grown from, flourished under, and been warmed by your words of praise and encouragement. However, it was the silly A/N from the end of chapter 23 of "Learned by Heart, Kept in Mind," that brought about a miracle in my life. A kindred spirit read my diatribe about the difficulty associating breasts with VERBS, and she wrote to tell me it made her laugh. She was also named Karen, which seemed like a cosmic coincidence at the time. I'm now convinced it was the Universe's way of giving me a guardian angel for the hell I was about to enter. In the years since I wrote all those words - over half million of them - my dear Karen of Texas has gone from being an internet buddy to the woman who held me up while my world fell down, in a way that only a girlfriend can do. The love I feel for the man in my life- a man who will undoubtedly be my future - it cannot be compared to the love I feel for the incredible woman who took a chance at rooming with a total stranger at Gatecon in Vancouver and then became the Louise to my Thelma. She is my rock, my savior, and the kind of friend one only meets after having been friends in several previous lifetimes. I love her so much that, one Christmas, when life had robbed me of anything else to give, I gave her the one thing that could possibly show her how much her friendship meant to me - Jack O'Neill's pants.

So, now that this A/N is looking to be longer than the chapter I'm about to write... let me say once more, I love you ALL. Maybe someday, when I'm not on the brink of financial disaster, complete emotional implosion, and total cascade failure, well... maybe then I'll write again. In the meantime, here is The Last Chapter. I'm sorry it took five years to finish. But I'm glad there are still a few of you out there to read it.

* * *

Cradling a paper cup of barely-drinkable hospital coffee in one hand, Jack leaned back and scanned the headlines of the sports section. "Not much chance that the Avalanche is going to do anything impressive this year," he muttered somewhat dispiritedly. "And I have no idea why that surprises me anymore." Setting his cup down on the bed-side tray table, he flicked a brief, affectionate glance at the face resting on the hospital-issued pillow beside him. "Sorry that I can't offer you more incentive for returning to consciousness, at least from the Hockey universe." Reaching down, he gently brushed a lock of hair back from her alabaster forehead.

Coming here had become a daily ritual. The nurses now knew him by name, and frequently stopped in with goodies baked for patients by local volunteer groups. He knew they all felt a little sorry for him, no doubt because they all feared for Sam's recovery.

He, however, knew better.

Looking down at the long, thick lashes that rested delicately against her cheeks, Jack knew she was still in there. As he'd been warned would happen, Sam's eyes had begun opening at random intervals over the last few weeks. While most of the time, the action appeared to be reflexive and unintentional, there were times when he'd look into her clear, blue gaze and he'd see sheer determination reflected in their depths.

He knew the medical staff thought he was a fool to sit here, day in and day out. Her chances for a complete recovery were slim, considering the brain injury which she'd sustained. But for once, his devil-may-care attitude had served him well. He honestly didn't give a damn if everyone here thought he was a lunatic. His Carter _was_ still in there, locked in a nightmare she couldn't quite wake up from. He'd never forgive himself if she did manage to pull through, only to find herself alone.

Gazing at the even rise and fall of her chest under the sheets, Jack set his chin stubbornly.

She would never be alone again.

The quiet sound of a throat being cleared brought him out of his reverie. Looking up, he saw a nurse standing at the door with a hesitant smile. "I'm sorry, but I need to take her vital signs."

Jack smiled reassuringly, moving his coffee and newspaper out of the way. "No problem." With the stiffness of age and one too many combat missions, he slowly rose from his chair and gave the nurse access to the complex maze of wires and tubes connected to his former second-in-command. "I was just telling Carter about the Avalanche's lousy chances at a post-season this year."

The nurse smiled politely, no doubt wondering why anyone would talk to her comatose patient about _anything,_ much less hockey trivia. Still, her eyes were kind as she gently began documenting Sam's blood pressure and heart rate. Suddenly, she looked up at Jack with a smile. "I hear you're going to have some company today," She looked down at the bed with a smile. "Dr. Frasier called to let us know that Sam's Dad is stopping in today."

Jack blinked. _Jacob_ was stopping in? That _was_ news. It had been months since anyone had been able to make contact with the Tok'ra. After the near-apocalyptic disaster surrounding the device from P5X-146 and the radio-waves-of-doom from P6X-164, communications with their long-time allies had abruptly stopped. The Tok'ra had either felt some responsibility for nearly wiping out Earth – it had, after all, been Tok'ra intelligence which had prompted both missions in the first place – or they were staying clear the Tau'ri because they feared the less-than-cautious SGC missions might endanger _their_ world. In any event, it had never been clear if word of Sam's injury had made it through to Jacob.

The nurse looked at Jack somewhat curiously, trying to absorb his mute reaction to her announcement. "I understand he's from out of town."

Emerging from his thoughts, Jack found himself unable to suppress a grin. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Never too far away to see my little girl, though."

The unexpected voice made both Jack and the nurse jerk their heads reflexively to the open doorway. A moment passed while Jacob's eyes locked onto Jack's, and time seemed to stop for a moment. Jack was never _quite_ sure what Jacob felt about the odd connection between his daughter and her CO. Had he been given more notice about the man's imminent arrival, he might have had time to be nervous. Instead, he now found himself standing before the man, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights. It was bad enough knowing that Jacob was reading every nuance in Jack's posture, lack of military clothing, and familiarity with the nurses. It was worse knowing that there was a two thousand year-old alien lurking in his brain, undoubtedly making wise observations that only a few millennia of life could give rise to.

Clearing his throat, Jack turned to the nurse, hoping that a moment of normal conversation might ease the sudden knot of nervous tension in his gut. "This is Jacob," he blurted out, completely incapable of smooth speech. "He's Sam's dad."

As the nurse smiled pleasantly and greeted Jacob, Jack did not miss the amused flicker in the other man's eyes as he referred to Sam by her given name. Taking a deep breath, Jack steeled himself for the upcoming conversation. The horse had long since been out of the barn. He supposed now was as good a time as any to acknowledge it.

Suddenly, Jack realized that an unnatural silence had fallen. The nurse was eyeing him with a mix of uncertainty and impatience, and Jack suddenly realized he was supposed to be leaving the room while Sam had her vitals taken. "Oh! Right!" Clearing his throat, he turned back to Jacob, trying not to look like a kid caught with his hands in the cookie jar. "Patricia here was about to take care of the nurse-like-things that they do every shift." Noting Jacob's unchanging stare, he tried again. "We have to leave for that." Still nothing from Jacob. "They'll let us back in when they're done."

Finally, with the faintest of smiles, Jacob turned to the nurse and smiled graciously. "Thank you for taking such good care of my daughter."

The woman smiled and waved the compliment away. "Just doing my job," she said modestly, though it was clear that there was affection in her voice. Even unconscious, Sam had a way of making people like her. As she pulled out her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff, she nodded in Jack's direction. "_He_ is the one you should be thanking," she said with a smile. "II have no idea how he does it. He's here before the sun rises and stays after it sets." She chuckled. "We stopped trying to make him understand the words 'VISITORS HOURS' within a week of her admission." The nurse rolled her eyes. "Even in a military hospital, I've never met someone so stubborn. And, trust me, military men are the worst when it comes to being stubborn."

At that, Jacob smiled broadly. "I've been told so." Winking, he added, "Retired Air Force."

Looking startled and a bit abashed, the nurse started to apologize. Jacob raised a hand and chuckled. "You're right, of course." Then, glancing at Jack, he finished his thought with a tone that indicated more meaning than the simple words he uttered. "Can't say I'm surprised to see him here. He's almost worse than I am when it comes to watching out for my daughter."

Sensing the undercurrents in the conversation, the nurse adopted a brisk, no-nonsense tone of voice. "Yes, well _both_ of you will need to wait in the hallway until I'm finished." Seeing a mulish glint start to appear in both sets of eyes, she merely raised an eyebrow and pointed to the door. "Now."

It didn't take more than a moment for the two men to realize they were outranked here. Finally nodding their assent, the unlikely pair wandered out of Sam's hospital room in a thick cloud of tense silence.

Jack took a deep breath. "So..." he said, looking at the older man with apprehension. "I see you finally got news of Sam's condition."

Looking pained at the reminder of his daughter's injury, Jacob nodded. "I'd have been here sooner, but the High Council disconnected our gate until we could be certain that the threat had been truly neutralized. I didn't get word of her injury until a ship reached us with the news." Suddenly looking his age, Jacob raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples. "I should have been here sooner."

Jack shook his head. "We aren't exactly in nine-to-five jobs, Jacob." He smiled somewhat wryly. "We do what we can, whenever we have the chance to do it."

Suddenly snapping back to the conversation, Jacob's eyes took on a knowing look. "At least one of us isn't in _any_ sort of job," he said with amusement. "How's retirement, Jack?"

Inhaling deeply, Jack studied a spot on the wall behind the other man for a moment before answering. "Not exactly what I expected," he answered honestly.

Jacob nodded. "Selmak seemed to think you'd be doing more fishing," he said in a voice that _clearly_ indicated Selmak thought nothing of the sort.

Snorting, Jack rolled his eyes. "Ah, fishing..." He chuckled. "Yeah, well," he looked at the closed door to Sam's room. "Not so much these days."

"Sunup to sundown, huh?" Jacob's smile held no censure. "I'm glad you've been here."

Jack's eyes snapped to the other man's steady gaze. "You are?" The surprise in his voice was obvious.

Jacob walked over and placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'm not sure why that comes as a shock, Jack." He took in Jack's rumpled clothing and stubbled cheeks. "She loves you, Jack. I've known that for years." Seeing Jack's eyes widen almost comically, Jacob just smiled and continued. "Selmak always assured me that you loved her just as much, but I had my doubts, Jack." His smile became a grin. "I didn't think even _you_ would be thick enough to not notice her feelings... which, in my mind, could only mean you didn't return them." Shaking his head, he shrugged. "By now, I should know to take the word of," he coughed to cover an amused laugh, "those _older and wiser_." He rolled his eyes. "Nothing like hearing 'I told you so' from someone who is in a position to repeat it to me a few million times."

Still too stunned to smile at Jacob's monologue, Jack just stared blankly at the other man. "And... you're okay with this?"

Jacob smirked. "Aside from the taunting I'll be getting from Selmak for the next dozen years, of course I'm okay with it." He fixed jack with a meaningful look. "Didn't you hear me say she loved you?"

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but could not for the life of himself think of anything to say.

Jacob seemed to be expecting this reaction. "She's my little girl, Jack. I'm here to make sure she's happy." Staring meaningfully into Jack's bewildered face, he attempted to explain himself in a way that wouldn't breach national security. "When I spoke to Sam's doctor on the phone, he told me not to read too much into the involuntary twitches she makes. He said that the connections in her brain were re-forming, and that any eye or hand motion was purely a result of this healing." At that point, Jacob unexpectedly smiled. "The doctor told me that people don't wake from comas the way they do in soap operas."

Jack sighed. "Daniel said the same thing," he mumbled absently.

"Jack?" Jacob's voice was unusually cheerful.

Looking at the other man uncertainly, Jack answered slowly. "Yes, Jacob?"

Jacob's eyes twinkled. "I have a confession to make," he whispered theatrically. He slid his hand into his coat pocket and pulled something from it that made the breath catch in Jack's throat.

"I really _like_ soap operas."

It was a Tok'ra healing device.

Jack's eyes flew to Jacob's. "Will it work?" he rasped, not daring to hope for the impossible.

Jacob shrugged somewhat carelessly. "Selmak thinks so." He smiled. "And as my old friend has delighted in reminding me, he's usually right." He slid the device back into his coat.

At that moment, the door to Sam's room opened. Patricia the nurse stepped out with a cheerful smile. "She's all yours, gentlemen." Then, a note of excitement in her voice, she added, "I think she squeezed my hand on command today." The woman patted Jack on the forearm. "She's pulling out of it. I've seen enough of these to know that she'll be back with us soon." Then, in a cautionary voice, she continued. "Don't get too hopeful, though. Head injuries almost always rob their victims of something. Be prepared to keep fighting as hard as you have been.

It was all Jack could do to maintain a somber look as he nodded his understanding. "No soap operas," he stated.

The nurse smiled encouragingly. "No soap operas. But still a potentially happy ending." Then, with a last glance at Sam's chart, she left the men alone with her patient.

Under his breath, Jacob scanned the room discreetly and asked, "no cameras?"

Jack shook his head. "National security. Lord knows what she might babble when unconscious."

Jacob tilted his head in curiosity. "_Has_ she said anything?"

Flushing, Jack cleared his throat. "Not much. Just..."

Jacob smiled. "Let me guess." His eyes were teasing. "_'Jack.'_"

If it wouldn't have been blatantly unprofessional to do so, Jack would have stuck his tongue out at the other man. His silence, however, was enough to show the statement to be true.

"Okay," Jacob said with a deep breath. "Here goes nothing." Despite Selmak's confidence in the device, it seemed Jacob had the same fears of getting his hopes up that Jack had. Placing the disc in his hand, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Almost immediately, the artifact began to shine warmly.

Jack hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it left his lungs with a sudden whoosh.

Her eyes were open.

And it was _no_ reflex.

Blinking, Sam looked disoriented and muddled for a moment as she took in her surroundings. As her eyes settled on the man above her, holding the healing device, her eyes widened. "_Dad?_" She processed his presence for a mere moment before she reached up and caressed his face. "You came to help me," she said, choking up as she did so.

Jacob's voice was thick as he replied. "Of course I did, angel." He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "That's what Dads are for."

Sam seemed to think about sitting up for the briefest of moments before she realized her body was not going to obey. "How long have I been here?" she rasped , vocal cords still rusty from disuse.

Jacob smiled and leaned back. "I'm not sure honey. I just arrived today. Maybe you should ask the man who's been here every waking hour since you were hurt."

Sam's browed furrowed in confusion until her eyes landed on the man standing behind her father. "_Jack?_" Then, even in the midst of recovering from a brain injury, she caught her blunder and quickly rushed to correct herself. "I mean, 'colonel," of course." A twinge of regret flashed though her eyes as she said it. Then, as if a very important thought just occurred to her, her eyes flew to Jack's. "Oh!" she gasped.

Jack knew the instant she recalled their heated moments in that cold, soggy crypt. He watched the dizzying array of emotions zip through her eyes - surprise, joy, terror, and lastly, regret. Somehow, Jack knew she wasn't regretting their actions, but rather the fact that they wouldn't be repeated.

Which, he later reflected, is probably why he suddenly grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "_Former_ Colonel," he corrected her gleefully. "I retired."

Sam's eyes widened. "Retired?" Looking down at her weak, useless body, another thought suddenly slammed into her. Her gaze flew back to Jack's. "Because of me?"

Smiling affectionately, Jack shrugged. "They didn't seem to think I could do much 'officer-ing' when I was spending every moment here for the last two months."

A strangled noise erupted from Sam's throat. "Two _months_?" She gaped at him in open shock. "I've been here for two _months_?" She looked totally aghast. Then, closing her eyes and shaking her head, as if to clear it, she quickly returned her eyes to his. "You've been here with me for _two months?_" Her jaw had literally fallen slack at the revelation.

Again, Jack shrugged off her words. Looking at her, he seemed mesmerized by her presence. "When I stepped through that wormhole into a hurricane, I vowed I wasn't coming back without you." Stepping forward, he gently lowered himself to the opposite side of the bed where Jacob sat. "I meant it, Sam." He swallowed thickly. "I wasn't coming back until you were with me." He smiled, eyes sparkling with more than his usual wit. "And now you're back. So I guess I kept my promise."

Sensing that his presence was no longer needed, Jacob slid off the bed and quietly stepped to the door. Not surprisingly, neither of them even noticed.

Sam's eyes filled with tears. "I guess you did," she whispered. As she blinked, a single fat tear rolled down her cheek. "But you retired." Her voice was barely audible, choked with emotion. "What will you do now?" A hiccup squeaked out of her as she struggled to contain her emotion. "You gave up _your career_."

This time, Jack's smile was wry. "You think they'd just let me walk off and never come back?" He rolled his eyes. "I'm now a 'military contractor,' which, as far as I can tell, means I'm doing my same old job... without being confined by the UCMJ." His last statement dripped with meaning.

Eyes widening, Sam seemed to process his words with disbelief. Before she could censor herself, the thought which had struck flew from her mouth.

"No frat regs?"

Jack smiled. "No frat regs."

Sam held her breath. "And that means...?"

Pausing, Jack looked at her for a moment, taking in her pale, weakened condition, wondering if he should pursue this line of conversation right now, Then, taking a deep breath, he decided he'd beaten around the bush long enough. It was now or never.

"That means you're going to marry me, Major Carter." It sounded enough like an order that he winced a little. "I meant to be a little more romantic when I said that," he mumbled as an afterthought.

Making a noise that was part giggle and part sob, Sam placed a hand on his. "I'm too weak to jump up and grab you around the neck and kiss you until you're dizzy." Her voice was raspy, but clear as crystal in terms of her emotional meaning. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be on kiss duty until I get my strength back."

Leaning forward, and hardly daring to believe it, Jack searched her eyes for any signs that her words were a result of her injury. "So... that's a yes?"

She smiled tartly. "I only disobey orders when they might lead to getting into bed with you," she chuckled. "And since you're already _in_ my bed, I think it's safe to comply." Then, with a tearful laugh, she looked up at him and smiled with the brightness of the noonday sun. "Of course I'll marry you," she whispered. "I think I was born for it."

Too overcome with emotion to speak, Jack leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. The gentle kiss gradually turned warmer, even despite Sam's condition.

A gasp from the doorway made the coupple reluctantly pull apart. Patricia was standing there, holding Sam's medical chart, looking completely shocked. "What on earth is going on here?" she asked faintly?

Jack looked down at the love of his life and then back at the pale nurse. "I believe," he said with a smirk, "that Sam and I just wrote a soap opera."

Unlike most soap operas, however, the two truly did live happily ever after.

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A/N: Thank you, everyone. I love you all. Please visit my art website and make requests. It has been a pleasure being a source of entertainment for you. Be well!

-Karen :)


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